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.

132. The Magic Railroad: Part 2

Part 2: In Which Exposition Happens.

"Good evening, all. I'd like to thank you for coming out on such short notice."

"It ain't like we 'ad a choice." remarked Fred Pelhay. "You're only gorn and bleedin shut down all operations! What the 'ell did you do that for? We 'ad a good deal going on!"

"Look at the bigger picture here, Fred." U.L.P rumbled. "If we make any movement that threatens the engines, at a time where there are no humans, we run the risk of hitting a dead end. Say we crash all the engines. Who shall put them back on the rails? There will be nothing for us to do. And to make matters worse, I'm not entirely sure that our brothers won't turn on each other."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah! They're little bastards like that!" Rickety sounded proud. Very proud.

"There is another reason." croaked the Spiteful Brakevan. "There are...others, here."

It had not been a good time to be the Spiteful Brakevan. Aside from people being unsure as to who he was, whether or not he was the original or just a pretender, the trucks had begun to become weaker and weaker. This was not due to his leadership. No, that would have been a blessing. No one listened to him anymore. Or the three currently in discussion with him in the Wellsworth Yards. The time of the trucks being the terror of the tracks was over.

At least...the modern trucks.

"What is that?" U.L.P asked. "I am not sure to which you refer."

"Then allow me to explain. Before you were brought here, there was another kind of truck. A kind that wasn't like us, or like the engines. A truck that had more in common with a coach than anything else. And it was these trucks that were truly terrifying. Many of the truck families that we served in the old days were originally part of this select few."

He referred to, of course, the trucks that had been decomissioned in 1984. The trucks who had no grey face, like the engines, but only painted eyes on a board of wood, and a snarl that never seemed to change.

"But, they were taken out of the equation, right boss?" Rickety asked, eagerly.

"No. Most of them were. They were sent to the scrapheap, or destroyed, or converted into the forms that we are now. But there were some who were rumored to have escaped. Some survivors managed to get to the Other Railway."

"Wait, are you...are you 'aving us on?" Fred looked nervous. "Those bastards are...shit. They're crazier than Rickety over 'ere!"

"Heh! True!"

"Indeed. And they have a leader. Scruffy."

"Bugger." said U,L.P. "So what do we do?"

"You die." said S.C Ruffey.

There was a moment's silence.

And then the Yards began to swarm with the Other Trucks. Seething with them, so much so that from the air, the entire yard would have consisted of a single dark color. No one noticed as, in the chaos, the four lead trucks and a select few gained enough control of themselves and raced towards Knapford.

...

"Hi Trev. You doing okay?"

Trevor the Traction Engine nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose so, Edward. As well as can be expected, I suppose." He crunched on an apple that had been lucky enough to fall onto his funnel and winced. "Eurgh. Macintosh."

"You're a PC guy, then?"

"Ha. Funny. You should go and write jokes for Adam Sandler."

"You take that back!" Edward gave a weary little smile. "No, but seriously, how are you holding up?"

"As well as can be expected. Luckily whatever took the Fat Clergyman and the rest of the congregation doesn't seem to have harmed the church in any way. And there's no sign of there being any fires or anything like that, so that's always a plus." Trevor looked weary. "Terrance is over in the next field, making sure that all the equipment's being removed. And then we're heading off to Crovan's Gate for this meeting thing."

"Trust me, I doubt we'll get any proper information. But on the plus side, we'll get to see the full effects of what happened in a better light."

The two were silent for a bit, enjoying each other's company.

"Ah, I was meaning to ask you, how is BoCo?"

Edward looked glum. "Nothing off him yet. I've had a couple of telegrams from the manager at the yards he was sent to, saying that there are communication difficulties...but I'm starting to get a little antsy."

"Natural, I suppose. Don't worry, I'll always be around!"

"Heh. I hope so." Edward laughed. "You remember the old Vicar?"

"How could I forget? Saved me from scrap."

"See, Oliver says it so much that he kind of takes the sting out of it, doesn't he?" Edward's smile faded a little, as he grew wistful. "No, but old Teddy was a good egg. Really nice, really trustworthy...even if he did have some weird ideas about there being a curse on him or something. ...Poor man. What kind of world is it where a kindly old saint like him gets done in by his own bees?"

Trevor was silent.

Edward shook himself. "Anyway, I think I'll tour the Island once more before I get to the meeting. I want to make sure that everyone's got the word, and that they're all safe."

"You know, you don't have to keep putting yourself out."

"Someone has to keep them safe." Edward insisted.

"I just wish they gave something back to you for a change. You know, instead of you just giving and giving and giving and them taking with great glee."

Edward laughed, ruefully. "They're kids compared to us, Trev. Kids are selfish little buggers. Doesn't mean you shouldn't put the effort in." And now the smile really did drop. "No matter how many times it gets thrown back in your face."

Trevor sighed. "See you later, Edward."

"Likewise, old chum."

...

Duck watched the signal at Crosby. He wasn't sure how the signals were even working properly, but he'd be allowed to head off in a few minutes. He glanced around, and smiled ruefully at the Barbershop, now serving engines as well, thanks in no small part to the large hole that his front had created.

Simpler days.

Edward puffed up beside him. "Duck, good to see you!"

"Likewise, Edward." Duck frowned. "You haven't seen Oliver, have you?"

"Oliver?" Edward was concerned. "Not since last night. He was taking the mail train, wasn't he?"

"Yes. But he's not back in his sheds, I haven't been able to find the mail coaches that he was supposed to have taken, and from what I can tell, Tom Tipper's post van is still at the office. ...It appears to be missing him." Edward flashed a brief smile at this. "There's sacks of mail everywhere, looks like whatever happened stopped the workmen from loading them up."

"Duck, what's going on?"

"You expect me to understand!?" Duck hoped his voice sounded incredulous enough. Because while he didn't know for certain, he had a horribly good guess about what might have happened.

The events of the past few years were finally coming to a head. "No, I have no idea what is going on, Edward. Not a clue."

"Right." Edward sighed. "Sorry. Just...you always seem to be at the center of the strangeness. No offence."

"None taken. The Island is the epicenter of weird. It's natural."

"Don't worry about Oliver. He'll turn up eventually."

At that very moment, Oliver raced past them, screaming bloody murder and with a clear sign of exertion on his brow.

"Well...that's timing for you-" But Edward was interrupted as. seconds later, the ominous shadow of Diesel 199 followed him, still following after him with a similar speed.

"The hell!?" Edward grunted in surprise.

"Come on!" Duck ignored the signals, and rushed ahead. Edward hesitated for a moment, then puffed after him as fast as he could. Which, admittedly, was not as fast as most engines. But he had seen the look on that diesel's eyes, and while not as quick to act as Duck, he knew ill intent when he saw it.

Oliver was more tired than he had ever been in his entire life. His wheels were on the verge of buckling, his face was battered from all the wounds sustained while taking more dangerous tracks to try and avoid the diesel, and thick, black, bilious smoke poured from his funnel. If this wasn't what death felt like, then it was pretty damn close.

But still he kept on. He was vaguely aware that he was rapidly approaching the loop line. If he could just get there, perhaps he could trick the diesel into-

With a sudden pain in his buffers, Oliver lurched forward. Gasping out in shock, he glanced backwards to see 199 right behind him! Buffer to buffer, diesel and steam engine rammed backwards and forwards into each other, as they looped around. 199 may have had the size advantage, but Oliver was no slouch when it came to fighting.

"They're heading for the viaduct!" Duck gasped in horror. He looked around, desperate for a way to stop them. He couldn't get onto another track and bang into the diesel, he couldn't get Edward to help him out as he was trailing back a little, and he couldn't even get besides Oliver and-

No. He could.

But that would mean that he would blow his cover. Everything, EVERYTHING his life had led up to, blown away in an instant, to be replaced with shame from those he most looked up to. City of Truro and Flying Scotsmen's disapproving glances filled him with dread. Could he do it? Could he really risk everything, even the world, even his life, just to save one silly little stuck up tank engine, who was probably his best friend bar Percy?

The answer was simple.

Yes.

Edward stared in utter bafflement at what happened next.

Duck slid off the rails, and began to puff along the ground.

Now, let me clarify here. That is not to say that, like so many other accidents, Duck slipped off the rails and ground his way across the earth like a tractor plowing a field. This wasn't a crash.

This was Duck, physically dragging himself from the rails onto the solid earth and maneuvering just the same. Already his mind was running through a variety of possibilities, he hadn't had to use these weapons since his battle against Davidson the Electrical Engine.

The diesel clearly didn't believe it either. He gawped as Duck drew level with him, now rolling along the gravel like a jeep. Then, 199 snarled, and banged harder into Oliver, who was staring backwards with his mouth hanging open so far that several families of flies could have taken up roost. Oliver shouted and clung for dear life to the rails.

Duck swerved to avoid any little potholes in the makeshift road, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on 199's face, eyes that indicated that 199 was in for a bad time. The diesel snarled, trying to quell his terror at the sight of something so... unnatural, and swung his considerable bulk at Duck. Wincing, the Great Western dropped back, catching sight of Edward, who was still keeping up despite the fact that he was staring at Duck in bafflement.

They had now reached the final curve right before the viaduct, and already Duck could see that the river was in a foul mood today, whipping and crashing over the rocks. There had been a great deal of rain that had fallen, and the river was close to bursting its banks. If 199 took advantage here, which he definitely could, Oliver would surely be dashed to pieces.

Already, 199 had his buffers underneath Oliver's wheels, raising him up off the rails. With a shrieking crack, Oliver's crankpins shattered, and the Number 11 howled in agony as the diesel roared in triumph.

So Duck sped up a little, far faster than any normal engine should have been able to. His buffers made a curious clicking sound, and seemed to somehow transform.

199 glanced at Duck, and did a double take as twin buzz saws, rising from the buffer beam, sliced into his face. Howling, he was unable to stop as the second saw cut into his coupling. Oliver shot free like a cork from a champagne bottle, cleared the viaduct in one fell swoop and then bounced over the rails, turning a full somersault before landing cab first on a tree.

Duck and 199 battled furiously as they ran onto the narrow viaduct. 199 may have had power on his side, but Duck knew just where to slam and jab and slice into with each little blow.

"YOUR TIME IS OVER!" snarled 199.

"Maybe so. But so's yours!" And with one last, great shove, Duck slammed his buffers directly into 199's face. The diesel left the rails and for a moment, looked as though he would stay up in the air forever.

But down he fell. Down, down, down, over the edge of the viaduct and, with a sickening crunch, onto the rocks. He let out a horrifyingly loud gasp...and then his eyes closed for the final time, his frame, split in half, shuddered, and 199 slipped under the waters, dead.

Duck drove himself back onto the rails again, his wheels audibly snapping back into place, as if another strange gadget was being employed. His buffers returned to normal, as he came to a stop just beside Oliver, who was gibbering in confusion.

"All right, old chum?" Duck asked, trying to sound like the past five minutes or so hadn't happened at all.

"WHAT?!" Edward shouted as he caught up to Duck. "WHAT?! HOW!? WHEN?! WHO!? WHY?!" His face turned redder than James's paintwork, as he began making odd sounds that sounded like they were supposed to be questions but had failed on-route from his brain to his mouth. "WHAT THE HELL ARE THOSE WHEELS?!" He finally settled on.

"Oh, do you like them?" Duck gave the textbook example of what they in the business called a 'shit eating grin' and nodded downwards. "These are, er, prototypes. You know, the Great Western Railway said that they put a lot of stock in adding tires to my wheels."

"Those aren't normal." Edward shook his head. "They can't be, or Oliver would have them as well!"

"Sooooooooup." moaned Oliver, having banged his head a bit, and also going straight into denial mode.

"Ah- well- you see, they're testing out this new kind of fire engine that has both flanged wheels and tires, for road and rail purposes, and so they wanted to test if an engine could safely dismount off the track and not-" Duck's explanations died down as he began to feel Edward's heat seeking stare directly squarely at his face.

"I think." said Edward quietly. "We should get Oliver back on the track and to Crovan's Gate. We're going to have the meeting, and then you-" He roughly shoved Duck. "-are going to tell us who you are, why you're here, and what exactly it is that you want with us."

...

HELLO THERE.

199 growled as he watched the odd cavalcade set off back towards Crovan's Gate. He had been so close! The Fat Director would be so disappointed in hi-

"Oh." he said, as he stared at what remained of his mortal form. Then he turned slightly, to see Ivor the Engine standing there. "Ohhhhhh." he remarked. He suddenly wondered why he suddenly felt ashamed.

THAT WAS IT, I'M AFRAID.

"What now?"

NORMALLY, THAT WOULD BE UP TO YOU. HOWEVER, THANKS IN NO SMALL PART TO YOUR OTHER RAILWAY-

199 turned and stared in surprise at the thousands- No, millions of others waiting alongside him They all glowed with the same ghostly transparency as he did, and all bore the same expression of pain.

And that was when 199 realized that even his death had been of use to the Other Railway.

-YOU ARE RATHER TRAPPED HERE FOR THE MOMENT.

…..

As Thomas puffed into Crovan's Gate, he became aware of just how many of the remaining Island residents were here.

Not just trains, either. There, resting between the Standard and Narrow gauge rails were Bertie the Bus, looking somewhat bemused now that he had no passengers to take, Terrance the Tractor (Still smiling, despite it all) and Trevor the Traction Engine, looking nervously to where Edward was supposed to be. Caroline hurried in, looking furiously at a sheepish Butch. She had asked for a tow, in a very flirtatious voice, and Butch had somehow managed to completely miss every innuendo imaginable.

Sir Handel was glaring at one of the more recent arrivals, George the steamroller. George snarled back. It seemed even the strangest incident in the history of the Island wasn't enough to make certain that old grudges were put aside. Butch rolled his eyes, and Thomas sympathized. No one liked having to deal with George, even on the best day possible.

Mr. Conductor got out of Thomas's cab and walked along to the middle of the tracks, where no engine stood. He glanced around. Everyone was watching him. "Is this all you've got?" he pleaded. He had hoped to have an actual proper briefing off of someone who was, well, human.

"Almost. There are still a couple missing." Henry glanced around. "Funny, where is Percy?"

"Sorry I'm late!" Percy hurried in, pulling alongside him what appeared to be the Sidings Bar. "Forgot this thing was mobile, thought we could all do with a drink."

"Capital idea, don'cha know!"

"Oh god alive." Douglas muttered under his breath. "No tha' prat! I'll take a wee dram, thank ye Percy!"

Harold gently lowered himself down onto the nearest section of grass, wincing apologetically as his blades accidentally smacked into Gordon. "Sorry old chap!"

"Get on with it!" Gordon shouted, his pride just as dented as his side was.

Coming up alongside Thomas, James came to a rough stop. "Tried my best, but I can't find Edward, Duck or Oliver. Got word off one of the trucks that something's going on, but I'm not entirely sure what."

Henry puffed forward to slot in between Gordon and Percy. "Might have a few issues trying to get the trucks here. Most of them are forming some sort of giant wall to prevent us from getting at the trucks in charge."

"Can't be helped." Thomas turned to Mr. Conductor. "Sir, if you'd kindly start talking?"

Everyone's attention was now focused solely on the human. He walked over to the bar and sat on one of the stools.

"Well then- "he began, and was rudely interrupted by two sets of whistles.

"Talk about being fashionably late" remarked Bill to Ben, but both were immediately silenced by the sight of Edward and Duck, supporting a very injured Oliver, into the works. The Pinchers, somehow sensing what needed to be done, immediately got to work on repairs.

"Edward, what- "

"Later." Edward growled. He glared at Duck, who looked down, unable to meet his eyes. "We've got a lot to discuss with Montague here, back at Tidmouth." No one, no matter how dense, could miss the stress he placed on Duck's real name.

"Can I continue?"

Edward frowned. "Mr. Conductor?" At the nod, he relaxed a tiny bit. "Sorry. Go ahead."

"Right." The Conductor cleared his throat. "First of all, I feel I owe it to you to explain a little something about the way that I got here."

"Ferry?"

"Gold Dust."

Duck started. Edward glared at him, before turning back. "What's is this…. gold dust?"

"No one really knows. My great grandfather found it on one of his first visits to the states. He got it off someone who had supposedly been here for years. Supposedly. With this, he was able to travel to wherever he desired, as long as he had a conduit through which to channel it. Hence the whistle."

James, who immediately began thinking of money, asked innocently. "Any down sides?

"Every so often we shrink." Mr. Conductor shrugged. "Don't ask me, I have no idea how it works. But anyway." He snapped back to business. "A few days ago, I received a telegram from a Mr. Topham Hatt. He and I met briefly on one of his trips to Shining Time Station, and he promised me that I could visit the place that the Conductors who came before me had spoken highly of. He also said that he had it on good authority that I was the man needed to run the railway, should something bad happen."

"Wait, just like that?"

"It's not as slapdash as it sounds…er, Sir Handel, was it? Right, sorry, there's a lot more engines here than his description." The Conductor cleared his throat. "Since the eighties, one of our family have been living amongst you, acting as a driver. You may know him as Carlin- "

"What!?" shouted Henry and Percy together as one. The idea that their driver had any knowledge of magic was about as understandable as discovering that Tony Blair was in actuality was a duck.

"Carlin?!" Gordon laughed despite himself. "He's a foul mouthed drunk who ended up running over a bike just because he felt like it insulted him!"

"Yes, well- "The Conductor looked embarrassed "We all have our black sheep, don't we? But Carlin living here meant that he was able to switch back and forth between Sodor and Shining Time. He was far better with the kids over there than I ever was, but he eventually left following his dismissal and appointed me to look after the station. He also left me a great amount of documents relating to Sodor, and I've spent most of my time since taking over reading up on them. Apparently before he left, he handed in a letter recommending me for a job here. I had to take a course to become a driver. Which I passed, before having to head back to Shining Time without becoming a driver. But that does technically leaves me as the highest ranking member of staff on the Island at present. Somehow."

"So what do we do?" remarked Skarloey, at last.

"Well, with the disappearance of the rest of the Island's population, I think we should mostly focus on making sure that the Island doesn't grind to a standstill, if what you say about these, er, Pinchers is true." Mr. Conductor paused once more. "So, tomorrow, everyone starts over. I'll make sure that I get to you as soon as I can and check in on you. That's pretty much all I wanted to say."

"Inspiring" grunted Duncan. "Truly, truly inspiring. Rivals the St Crispin Day's speech really. Ah feel mahself tearing up at the sheer- "

"Oh shut up Duncan!" Rusty groaned. "Let's just get some rest."

…..

And so everyone returned to their own places. The Skarloey group rested at Crovan's Gate, Mavis and the China Clay Twins headed back to the Quarry, the coaches went to rest in the coach shed. They were determined to get a good night's sleep.

However, Edward patiently took Mr. Conductor aside and remarked that there was something that had a bearing on what had happened that they needed to discuss in the morning. Mr. Conductor, from his notes, could tell that Edward was to be trusted in such matters, and agreed.

And so the morning dawned, and while the other engines got ready to work in what was now becoming a regular thing for them, those at Tidmouth awoke to find Duck patiently waiting on the turntable.

"Edward, if we have to do work, do you mind not taking our time up with- "

"This is important, Gordon." Edward looked at Duck, oddly. "I didn't tell you what happened last night, did I?" Very quickly, he sketched out the story of how he and Duck had chased down the diesel going after Oliver, the latter's narrow escape, the destruction of the diesel, and finally, Duck's use of technology that no engine had ever seen before.

The engines were silent, and shocked. They turned to Duck waiting for an answer. No one saw Splatter and Dodge sidle into the goods shed.

"Montague." Edward was cold "I think we're owed an explanation."

"He owes you nothing!"

That hiss of anger came from one of the two black tank engines that came hurrying up. They were eyed with suspicion and anger, but if that affected them, you would be hard pressed to see it. Jinty and Pug glared at Duck.

"Don't you dare do it!" Pug growled. "It's against your orders, Montague!"

"Orders?" Henry frowned. "Whose orders? The Fat Controller?"

"Yes." Jinty said quietly. "Yes, that's it."

"No it isn't." Duck said, equally as calmly. "He doesn't know a thing either. And Pug, with all due respect, to hell with my orders. I've spent at least thirteen years on this Island, lying to their faces. The least they deserve to know is the truth. If that ends up costing me, then I'll take it. But we need all the help we can get!"

"You-"

Jinty looked at Duck for a moment, and then quietly sighed. "No, Pug, he's right. I don't think we can hide it anymore. And the fact that we have...it's been a bloody miracle."

"Will someone PLEASE tell us what is going on!?" Thomas snapped.

Duck paused for a moment. "Where to begin?"

"At the beginning." Percy remarked, coldly. Duck looked up, his eyes filled with something akin to regret.

"Yes. Right. …. Why do you think I was brought here?"

"Because there was a shortage." Henry started. "A shortage of engines at that time. The work was getting too much for Percy at that time, and really, it was the worst possible time to start. But there was an expansion of the railway into more aspects than simply pulling trucks to one location and taking passengers to another. From the idyllic ideal of the railway to the more practical one, in a sense. You were called because we needed another engine."

Duck nodded. "That is part of the reason. Or put it more accurately, it's the reason that Sir Topham Hatt was pointed in my direction. But the real reason, the main reason, that I came here was because…" He paused, and it was clear that whatever he was going to say next, it was taking all of his willpower not to break completely "Because Her Majesty's Government considered that this Island may be in danger."

"Oh, so you've finally got around to admitting that, have you?" Toby shook his head. "Duck, greatest of respect, but you are crap at keeping secrets."

There was a three second silence before all engines present, plus Mr. Conductor, screamed out "WHAT!?"

"Percy." Edward's eyes were wide. "Get the bar, I think we're going to need several stiff ones to get through this."

"So you're a- "

"Spy? Yes."

Gordon began laughing, somewhat nervously. "Oh please, y-y-you're joking right! Please tell me you're joking. Engine spies don't exist!"

"How'd you get recruited?" said Toby, who was not fazed at all, surprisingly.

"Er...god, it's been so long ago now."

...

DECEMBER. 1964.

"Hello there, young Montague." City of Truro smiled kindly down at Duck, who nervously looked around. "Don't worry, don't mind them. They're just here to listen to what happened to you, and ask you a few questions. That's all."

"I-I-If you say so, sir."

"Please, Montague, or do you prefer still to be called Duck? You do? Oh, that's good then. Please, Duck, tell us what happened."

"My regiment was attacked sir. There were diesels waiting for us at the scheduled rendezvous point with the Bluebell Railway. King James I tried to negotiate with them. He said that if they let us pass and go free, he'd make sure that they weren't held up on any war crime charges. But, they didn't...they didn't really listen to us. And they attacked."

"Take your time." said a deep voice, belonging to that of the Flying Scotsman.

"King James ordered us to get to the Bluebell Railway by any means necessary. I volunteered to hold the diesels back while they made their escape. But they had...anticipated this. They rammed the others off the rails, and ordered them to be dragged off to the scrapyard. I tried to stop them, I did, but there were too many." Duck's eyes were watering, he wished they'd turn the light down. He wasn't crying, but it looked like he was. "So I fought as many of them as I could. They'd already taken King James out before I was able to get to him in time. So I used the tar wagons he had brought against the diesels. And then...you found me."

He wished someone would wipe his eyes. The other engines gave him a few minutes of silence out of respect.

"Do you know why you are here, 5741?" asked St Eustace, somewhat formally.

"To report back on what happened to the King James Regiment, sir."

"Yes. And for another reason. You are unaware of this."

"Sir?"

"Sorry Eustace, but with all that kerfuffle last night, I felt it best that we let Duck here relax a bit, and come to terms with what happened to his friends. Hence, I did not inform him." Scotsman looked at Duck carefully. "Now then, Duck. Do you know why the steam engines are being hunted like this?"

"The Beeching Cuts. He decided that the shape that the railways were in weren't good enough."

"In a sense, that is true. But I am not concerned with the non-sentient engines being cut up for scrap. They are simply machines, things with no heart and soul. No, I ask about the vigor with which the steam engines that live and breathe and talk and think like us are being pursued. The King James regiment was only the latest in a long line of private assassinations of some of our more famous members. Many of my brothers have been destroyed. The same goes for the Mallard and his brethren. Diesels are being fuelled by someone, someone big. They call him the Fat Director. We know little about him, save for the fact that he succeeded the previous manager of a similar name in the 50's, and since then he has been on the hunt with the help of a few criminals to find something."

"What?"

"They called her Lady. In many senses, she is our God. Our creator. She was the one thing that kept us safe. Oh, the occasion accident happened of course. And the bombings took out more than a few of our kind, but for the most part, she lived, we lived. And then she vanished. Gone without a trace. And with her died the Age of Steam. Now the diesels and the electric rule the rails. There are safe areas, of course. The Forest of Dean, the Bluebell Railway, and of course, the Island of Sodor. But that is why diesels are so angry and so determined that we should be eliminated. We are the last ways of preserving the steam engine for good. The group of us you see here are a Parliament sanctioned group by the name of the Iron Circle. We got the name from a selection of people who guarded Lady in the past. We aim to find her and stop the Fat Director for good."

"All right, but where to do I fit in?"

"City of Truro has told me about how hard you work during your times in Paddington and on the Great Western. Your conduct this week has shown you to be a courageous fighter against all the odds. You are also one of the only survivors of a regiment we assumed to be unstoppable. You have lived so long in a world that wants you dead. In other words, with a bit of training, you could be the key to finding Lady. We have a mission. At some point in the future, could be twenty days, could be twenty years, you will need to head over to Sodor and find Lady for us. Will you do it?"

Duck paused. And thought. And thought again.

Finally, he remarked. "Where do I sign?"

...

Duck quietly turned back around on the turntable to face the other engines. "That 'future', as it turned out, was 1986. My mission went on for longer than expected. The original plan was to go in, find out whether or not the Railway still existed and then get out after two or three years…. but, as you can tell, everything that happened got in the way. I'm…. sorry."

"No one knows anything about Lady." remarked Jinty, to break the silence "We could never find anything out about her. Or...well, to be more precise, all we have are myths and rumors. She kept to herself, stayed out of the way of even the most famous of engines. The only reason we know she existed was...a lot of old texts. There's no way that there's that level of coincidence."

"What, you mean, the fable of the Lady of the Woods?"

Everyone looked at Henry. He frowned as he glanced from face to face. "What? Oh come on, tell me at least one of you did some reading up on our Island's history before Thomas applied to become mayor!?" The sheepish coughs and embarrassed mumbling clued him in that they clearly hadn't. "Edward, Gordon, we heard that story back in the war time…. remember, when all those troops started seeing things?"

"I had more important things to do! There was a war on!"

Edward was more thoughtful. "I recall something vaguely about such a fable. But you're better at remembering stuff like that."

"How does it go?" Pug asked, curious.

Henry cleared his throat, and began his tale.

…

Once upon a time, there was an Island. It was small, beautiful, well out of the way of any inhabitants aside from the animals that naturally populated it. And yet there was a presence there, something that could walk among this perfect picture of nature and yet not disturb the natural equilibrium. This presence was referred to by those who could describe it as 'The Lady of the Woods'.

Of course, the world didn't stay ignorant to the island for long. And eventually, man surely made its mark upon it, creating towns, villages, cities even, where once there had been nothing but fertile earth and pleasant, picturesque countryside. Now, the Lady of the Woods would have been well in her right to blame us for the destruction of such beauty. But in her infinite wisdom, she saw something in us. Something new. Something exciting. Something that held the glimmer of potential. And as the years changed, so too did she. At first, merely interested in us, she soon became fascinated with the great good that man could do. In particular, she became enamored with a thing known simply to her by the name the humans called it: Railway. The great iron juggernauts that ran upon it caught her eye, and she desired more than anything in the world to find out what they were.

Well, as time went on, the world grew darker, and the Lady discovered that there were things too that man had created that were unpleasant. She had nightmares weekly about a strange, massive, mechanical dragon that seemed determined to kill her or die trying.

One day, while watching a steam engine working, she heard the sound of a plane overhead. She had just enough time to work out that what the plane was dropping was a bomb, and to find shelter in the one place she could, before it hit and shattered the peaceful tranquility that the Island had held.

She had taken shelter inside the steam engine. Its crew was dead, and the bomb had sent it hurtling onto its side. And as the war waged on, unbeknownst to anyone, she tried in vain to use her powers to save herself. But her possession of the steam engine meant that she could no longer merely escape using her own powers. She and the engine were bonded together for all time.

At last, help came in the form of three young children. Playing together, they discovered the Lady, and she communicated to them her problem. They fetched workmen to lever her back onto the tracks, and polished her as the war came to a graceful end. So the Lady, in gratitude, offered her protection to the three young ones. She promised them that they would never fear their own deaths as long as she was around to protect them, and that if they so wished, she could even temporarily hold back the advances of the years.

And so they continued, the Lady becoming more and more adept at using her new form. The island already had a number of trains that could talk the same as any human, so she was never without company. And her three friends soon became inseparable with her, they never had to want for friendship and adventure with her around. But the good times were not to last. Soon soldiers came to defend the Island in case the enemy ever returned.

And here, the Lady decided that she would no longer be merely an observer in such events. Humanity, for all its flaws, was far more interesting and worthwhile to her alive, and so she used her magic in a variety of ways. On some occasions, she saved the lives of wounded soldiers when their trains were bombed. On others, she raced to stop potential landings on the island's soil. She used her own magic to transport the wounded soldiers away from the Island to places with better medicine, on a rail-line only she knew the whereabouts to.

And throughout this, she could not focus as much on her three friends. She would later learn, to her great joy, that for two, the war had brought to the surface feelings of love that went above friendship. With her blessing, they soon become lovers, both happier than they could have imagined.

But the third friend was jealous. He had wanted the affection of the one girl of the three as well, and the fact that she had chosen, in his mind, a weaker and more pathetic man than he was. And so, with great darkness in his heart, he turned his back from them and vanished into the night. The Lady was deeply worried, and with the remaining friends sought him out. He had grown older, and with it, colder to the world. His own magic had become powerful enough to create something that, in his deluded mind, would grant him the magic from the Lady, in order to show his love how much worthy he was than his former friend.

When the Lady saw this, she felt something she had not felt in a long time. Terror. For the creature created by her former ally was none other than the dragon that had tormented her dreams for so long. As they battled, the dragon consumed the traitor and went for her friends. The Lady bravely threw herself in front of the attack. The dragon's claws were powerful, and the battle long. But the Lady had steeled herself for this, and so, she made one last request to her remaining friends. She asked only that they assist her escape to the Magic Railroad, as they referred to it. They did so, and she rushed away from the civilization, the dragon giving pursuit.

But the Lady was clever. The railroad itself was full of ancient magic, and as the chase continued, and the dragon deliver unto her many, many painful wounds, she used the last dying dregs of magic to allow the railroad's own magic to rip the dragon apart, as she rushed into a safe place. But already it was too late, for the wounds had injured her to an extent that the only way to keep herself safe was to fall into a deep sleep. She told her friends, who were grief stricken at their feelings of incompetence, to not be hard on themselves, and that it was thanks to them that she was safe.

And so, as she fell to sleep, they entombed her inside of a mountain, and together, they stood in watch. They married, and though whether they had children or not I cannot tell, I know this. In a mountain, somewhere out there in the world, there is an engine sleeping. She is waiting. And one day, when our need is great…. she will return.

…..

All were silent as Henry finished his story. He coughed, self-consciously. "Of course, the story changes from person to person. The troops mostly focused on the rescue part and they speculated about it. But there is historical precedent that states that there were three kids who came over from America during the First World War and stayed here until roughly the fifties."

Duck stared in slack-jawed shock. It seemed to be that his mind had been temporarily rendered blank by the fact that Henry apparently had found out more regarding his actual mission in five simple minutes than he had managed in over ten years.

"Well." Henry grinned rather vindictively. "You mock my interests, but now they're useful- "

"Oh don't brag Henry." Edward had just finished his eighth bottle of whiskey. "My head hurts enough as it is." He groaned. "All right...so, this Lady. That story is obviously idealized tosh, Gods don't come to Earth and stay in one place for centuries because they want to help people, or engines, in this case. They come to experiment or keep something hidden."

"We can speculate on that later. What were these kids called?" Duck asked of Henry.

"Their names are Burnett Stone, Tasha Bower and P.T Boomer."

"Boomer!" Pug growled. "Naturally. We've been tracking his progress with Captain Zero since the sixties. They've been everywhere trying to find Lady, but to our knowledge they never found her."

Mr. Conductor had turned white. "Boomer's at Shining Time." He wiped his brow clean of sweat. "He's been there the last four or five years, just keeping out of everybody's way. I didn't think he was anything more than just a bully but- "

"But he's far more than that." Duck was grim. "That diesel that went after Oliver was, in all likelihood, only the first. I'd say we're looking at a full scale invasion of the Island."

"They can't!" laughed Thomas. "A couple of bikers and a few diesels!? And besides, it's a small Island that has little to no influence in world affairs, no brekathroughs of anything significant...why attack it?"

Duck closed his eyes, ignoring Thomas. "How did it all go so badly wrong?"

"Did you mean any of it?"

Duck looked to Percy, who was clearly trying hard not to sound hurt. "Were we ever friends, Duck?"

"Of course we were!" Duck was clearly agitated. "We're not supposed to get attached, but it was impossible not to! For all my comments and schemes and jokes I've made at your expense, I have genuinely come to think of you as my friends." Duck swallowed audibly. "I…. I'll answer any questions you have- "

"Let's start with one right off the bat." Edward interrupted. "Where are all the humans gone?"

"That….is a very good question." Duck looked to Jinty. "From what I can gather from my investigation, and similar comments by Jinty and Pug, the Island is, to a certain extent, alive. My best guess would be that it sensed that there was some sort of disturbance coming and reacted by muddling it. The spell used was one that attempted to remove the humans. The Island's...somewhat chaotic state screwed the spell into making it literal, in that case."

"Wait, wait, and wait again." Edward closed his eyes. "Disturbance? What disturbance? One nutcase diesel?"

"More than that." Jinty interrupted. "We've heard rumors that the Other Railway have been whipping up tension among their own converts. They've managed to gather enough to mass an army."

"An invasion!?" shouted Gordon in horror. He had been slow to react to most things up until now, mostly due to shock, but this...!

Mr. Conductor rushed off. "I've got to call the Mainland and get us evacuated!"

"And just when were you going to tell us this?" Edward turned to Duck so fast that for a moment the Great Western Engine feared that he would tackle him. "If Oliver hadn't been under attack, would you have stood back and let the Island fall!?" He glared at Jinty and Pug. "You wanted the Island watched. Why?"

"I don't see- "

Jinty quietly spoke up. "Because this railway has long since been one of the few havens that has no representative on the Iron Circle's council, to stand up to the idea that steam engines have no place in the world anymore."

"You're a symbol. Of everything that the Other Railway stands against. As long as you are alive, as long as Sodor is the 'Last Safe Haven' that many claim it to be, then the Other Railway hasn't won." Duck grimly added.

"We wanted to understand more why the Fat Director was interested in this-" Pug was interrupted rather suddenly.

"The who?" Toby remarked at last, having silently listened to most of this and quietly made his own conclusions.

"Fat Director's the one responsible for the purges." Pug looked grim. "The one in charge of the Other Railway. No one knows who he is, and no one can touch him legally. He's working with another guy, calls himself Captain Zero- "

"As in, Captain Zero from Tugs?"

James, who was now in the mood to try and do something really useful and in a vain attempt to calm the mood down, grumpily remarked to no one in particular. "Rotten rails."

Thomas glared at James, his cheerful face betraying just how stressed he was "Puffing pistons! See, I can say random stuff like that off the top of my head too, James!"

"I should have been the one to collect Mr. Conductor!"

"Are you serious- "

"James is right, little Thomas! Collecting Mr. Conductor was a job for a grand and mighty engine such as ourselves! Important equals big! This is an indisputable fact of life!" Gordon was always up for some Thomas mocking. "James is a big red engine! You're…. not. Small, small, teeny-weeny-"

"Yellow polka dot bikini- Can we get back on topic?!" snapped Henry.

"Now I! A big blue engine! I know everything!"

"Then how come you didn't- "Edward stopped himself. "I'm not getting dragged into this! There are more important issues at stake here!"

"Bossy boiler! Too much bloody steam in your funnel, if you ask me!"

"Can we FOCUS!?" snapped Pug.

"Yes, never thought I'd agree with the psychopathic little tank engine, but we need to focus on what's important. And that's standing up on our own wheels." Toby glanced around. "Now, this diesel…Thomas, who is he?"

"I don't know." Thomas frowned. "Never seen him around before this happened, but he seems like he's- "

"Going to murder us all!" James wailed. "None of us are safe! We should repent! Repent! Wait, I'm not religious! Should I be religious? If this Lady is a goddess then should I be ready to offer myself in tribute?!"

"Calm yourself James, things aren't that bad yet." Toby frowned. "Then Diesel 10 would appear to be the monster of the week!" He paused. "I never thought I'd use a Power Rangers analogy before, but if we compare The Fat Director to Lord Zedd and Boomer to Goldar-"

"You watch Power Rangers?"

"Hey, it is BORING on this Island whenever you're not trying to kill each other!"

"Toby's right." Henry remarked, trying to get things (pun not intended) back on track once more. "And if this Diesel 10 knows that the lost engine of the legend really exists, then he knows that this would be a great time for her to return. And that terrifies him."

"What engine?" asked James, who had completely blanked out and gone off to his own happy little world during the explanation.

"What legend?" Percy asked briefly.

"Of an engine that is more powerful than any diesel could ever be. That's probably why he wants to destroy her."

"We're just stating the obvious at this point, aren't we?" Edward muttered to no one in particular.

"We'd better find her first." Percy remarked.

"Leave it to the big engines, Percy!" bragged the red idiot.

"Little engines can do things! Mostly if they have bright blue paint like me!" Thomas would have flipped the bird at James, but his lack of fingers prevented him from doing so.

Duck looked at Edward and Toby. "What are you going to do?"

"At the moment? Search the Island. I've got a couple more questions for you, and I really hope you're going to give me answers that make sense." Edward paused and amended his sentence "Sort of, make sense, that is. I swear to God, at the start of the week I thought that the worst I'd have to deal with was James crashing into a milk tanker and Henry getting high on some quality black tar. Now we have international espionage on our Island, oh, and WE MIGHT ALL DIE!"

"Got that off your chest?"

"A little, thank you Toby."

"All right. See you guys later." Duck puffed off, with Edward following close behind. Splatter and Dodge, who were still there after creeping into the yards to listen in, watched them go with devious grins on their faces.

"Hey, look out." muttered Dodge. "Here comes Harold the Flopperchopper, watch what happens when he flies past here!"

"Harold the what, James?"

"Don't ask me, Henry, I just work here!"

The sound of rotor blades whirring echoed across the yard. Percy looked up and groaned. "Oh bloody hell. Right, that's me done. I think I better just take my last train and check up on Mr. Conductor. I can't take Colonel Blimp up there right now."

"Routine fly by, chaps! Hullo!"

"Hello, Harold." droned the engines.

"Long day." remarked Thomas, grimly.

"It's about to get longer." Gordon remarked, as he eyed up the large container that Harold was carrying. "Brace yourse-MMPH!"

"Sorry chums, bit of a dust up, love to stay and clean up, better go, tarrah!" Harold vanished into the sky, as sneezing powder flew everywhere. Mostly onto the engines.

"Was that supposed to happen, you think?" Splatter asked. "Because I don't." He laughed maniacally for the hell of it.

"Neither do I!"

"THIS MUST BE DIESEL'S DOING! AAAAAA-CHOO-CHOO!" Thomas snarled and snorted up some of the powder. "Oh god is this what being high is like helllllllllllllllllp."

...

Mr. Conductor rattled the phone desperately. Luckily for him, the Fat Controller's door had been unlocked. He jumped as Percy rattled past him. Unluckily, however, most of the phones on the Island appeared to be not working. Hatt had many phones in his office, just in case, but each one refused to work.

At last, he spotted a piece of paper, tucked underneath a series of pictures of the Island circa 1991. He read aloud.

"Dear Mr. Conductor. Where were you!? You silly yank, is it too much to ask that you get here when I ask!? You have an advantage that most can't even comprehend. You, above everyone else, don't have an excuse. My wife said she couldn't miss our little holiday! We'll telephone to make sure you've arrived. Signed, Sir Topham Hatt."

The writing was harried, almost a second thought. There was no penmanship in this, it was sloppy, disorganized and had the distinct markings of someone terrified of something.

"Sir Topham Hatt." Mr. C mouthed. He looked around. A nice office, all things considered. There was a poster that parodied the famous Kitchener one, which had been left over from a brief attempt at politics back in 1994. Aside from that, most of the things in here were, for lack of a better word, memorabilia. An hourglass, with the tag 'Bought October the 9th, 1984', an old top hat that hug upon a worn stand, a half open bag of Magic Stars, VHS tapes of Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends in a large case shaped like Thomas himself, several Hornby sets marked 'For S & B', drawings done by young children, laminated letters that covered the wall, a safe that was shoved out of the way, photographs- Oh so many photographs.

This felt like part of a museum.

He moved over to the hanger, brushing past a globe and a collection of tomes entitled 'Our Island and Its History', to pick up the hat. Placing it on his head, having removed his cap, he found a mirror and glanced at himself. "Where were you?" he intoned, in a terrible impression of Hatt. He glanced at the poster.

The poster was frowning.

Somehow.

Removing the hat quickly, Mr. C wondered if the Fat Controller had died and was haunting him as penance. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, the poster appeared to be quizzical. Wondering if there was something in the water on this Island, and if he was going insane, Mr. Conductor walked around and tried to sort out his thoughts.

Then he tripped over his own feet, as the phone rang. Catching the photograph of Lady Hatt, he scrambled back up and grabbed the phone. He raised it to his ear, and tried to interject as much cheerfulness into his voice. "Good afternoon sir!"

"Conductor! You bloody wanker, where the hell have you been?!" Hatt sounded strained. Very strained. He sounded like someone was holding a gun to his head. It was probably the bad line, thought Mr. Conductor.

"A real honor sir!" Mr. C was practically on the verge of shining his shoes for his boss. With his tongue. "Like my family before me-"

"Shut up."

"And how-" the Conductor placed the photo back with great delicacy "-is Lady Hatt? Well? Oh, that gala! I am disappointed that-"

"Shut up, and listen to me! That bloody diesel's about, and I need you to keep an eye on him!"

"Watch out for Diesel, definitely!"

"Henry's not feeling too well, so make sure he gets all the vitamins he needs. Remember the Three R's."

"I'll keep an eye on Henry, certainly! I will remember the three R's, Reading, Writing and Arithmetic. Er, I mean, I will be responsible, reliable and really useful!"

"God I hate that slogan."

"Yes sir! Er, no, sir? We will all get a goodnight's sleep, and we are all looking forward to doing hard work tomorrow."

"Good. Get to it man!"

"Bye sir!" The Conductor flipped off the poster and walked out of the office.

...

Hatt hung up. "There. It's done. Now please, put the gun down and we can talk-"

The pistol smacked the Fat Controller's face, hard enough to bruise. The girl in the leather jacket picked him up and frog-marched him over to the basement. Hatt growled as he rubbed at his cheek, the girl smirked. "You know; I really hope I get to blow out your brains first!"

"Charming. This how Americans treat all their guests?"

"Shut it! In you go!"

Hatt staggered to his feet as the basement door was slammed shut and locked. In the dark, he could just about make out his wife, hurrying towards him. "Are you all right, dear?!"

"Well, my cheek still smarts, Alice. But yes, I'm fine." He embraced her warmly. "Did they hurt you?"

"Little rough, but not too badly." Alice glanced around. "I've been checking, everyone on the Island appear to be here."

"How are we not all suffocating then?!" called a voice that was recognizable as Jeremiah Jobling. "We should all be crushing each other and having a claustrophobic nightmare, shouldn't we?"

"Not so." Jem Cole strode forward, tripping over Mrs. Kyndley and her sister. "Oops, sorry dearies. Whatever this house is, it's been expanded. I've counted, and this entire basement is about roughly the length of two of Knapford Station's platforms."

"But why have they kept us alive?" asked Henry's driver. The fireman had passed out due to heat exhaustion. "I mean, shouldn't we be dead?"

"Mama mia! Don't-a say such things in front of the child!" The Refreshment Lady placed her hands over Nancy's ears. Nancy was looking bored.

"He needs us for something. To keep Mr. Conductor in line, perhaps." Hatt groaned and stretched out. "Good thing I got that note done in time."

"I hope they're okay." muttered Charlie Sand.

"They'll be fine." comforted Farmer Trotter. "Your engines are stronger than most of us give them credit for."

"James has probably crashed already." said Sidney, who was in a pensive mood.

"So, now what?" asked Bertie's driver.

"Now?" Alice Hatt straightened up her dress and turned to face what she hoped was the crowd. "Now, we get to work!" She spun on her heel. "Mister Sand, Mister Heaver, can you gather together all drivers and firemen please?" Nodding, both of Edward's crew moved about among the gathering of Sudrians, pulling each forward. This included a rather grumpy and tired Alec. Lady Hatt scanned the crowd. "Now, Finney, Trotter, McColl, come over here. You're all farmers, correct? Right, now here's what you need to do." She whispered to them, and nodding, they hurried back, picking up members of the crowd to help them in whatever task they were doing. "Right, the rest of you! Men, start treating anyone injured, women, find anything that isn't nailed down, and hand them out. We need weapons, and we need them fast!"

"Your wife is quite the little rebel, isn't she?" muttered Jem Cole as he helped Hatt to the corner to rest up.

"She certainly is! Wouldn't have her any other way!"

…

"You have been quiet all day." Duck frowned "It's…. not like you."

Edward remained silent still.

"I mean, usually you would have asked me how's it going, or if I knew what I was looking for, or you would have…. look, are you going to give me hell for what I've done, or WHAT!? I'd like to get it over with- "

"The Vicar." Edward didn't look at Duck, but just focused ahead, as they puffed along towards the Kirk Ronan branch-line. "All that talk about his death…. that curse thing that I passed on to you. You recall? So how did he die? Heart attack, the doctor said. But then again, he always was a careful old man, didn't think he'd be out beekeeping exposed like that, not with all the stings all over him. So how did he die? Painfully? Quickly?"

"I-"

"Well come on, Duck. You're the one with all the smart answers, remember?"

"We..I believe that the official diagnosis on the Mainland that the bees that stung him had been chemically altered with a unknown substance. My guess is that someone with more…supernatural powers than normal whipped them up into a frenzy and-" Duck trailed off. The details of the Vicar's murder were grisly, even by the standards of crimes committed by the Fat Director. He grimly remembered the incidents in Trumptonshire, and the Bigg City Port. Nasty stuff.

"Ah." Edward clicked his teeth. His eye wasn't twitching. Which meant that either Edward was either not that mad…. or the far worst alternative, that Edward was actually so angry that he managed to bypass most of the usual warning signs completely and was now burning with the heat and power of five suns.

Duck prayed it was the former.

"Ah." Edward said again. "I'm going to kill Marklin."

"He's already dead."

"Then I'm going to kill him even HARDER."

"I- "

"Duck, don't push me."

"Point taken."

Silence returned to the two engines. Duck had the distinct feeling that Edward was directing a part of his anger towards him. He was glad to see Jinty and Pug, and he was aware that this was the first time such a sentence had ever been thought ever.

"No sign of her." Jinty said softly.

"Not a bloody bit!" Pug said, with more grunting and more anger. "We sure she's even on this god damn railway!? Or was Truro just yanking our chain?"

"Oh please, like he'd do that!" Duck suddenly had the strangest sense as though he was missing vital information about something. He brushed it off and continued talking. "If she's not here, then the way to find her is." Duck said, looking to Edward for back-up.

Edward then proceeded to ignore this, and asked a rather awkward question. Awkward in that it was actually a really good question and Duck had the feeling that if Edward knew the answer, he would slowly dismember the three of them painfully over the course of the next hour. "So. This Boomer fellow. I assume he's a rather powerful man?"

"He'll have a army at his beck and call." Jinty agreed, and then promptly realized the same thing that Duck did (Pug took a few minutes, as he often did) in that telling Edward this was a Bad Idea with capital letters on both words.

"Army, hmm? How big?"

"Well, it's rather hard to say-" Duck started, and then Edward finally looked at him and Duck realized suddenly that Edward wasn't angry in the sense of burning hot rage filled ranting like Gordon could get.

No, he was one of those who had anger that was so very freezing cold, that grew colder and colder and colder as he shoveled it down into his boiler, every little jibe and jab and punch and smart arse remark that was made towards him was shoved down there and hidden, out of the way, because If Edward ever snapped, he would do far worse than the others would.

And that anger was now being directed at Duck.

"Montague, let me tell you something. I've had a pretty rough couple of days, all right? Everyone on the Island have either disappeared from plain sight, or they are playing the most intense and well thought out game of hide and go seek ever conceived of. I have one engine in the works getting attended to by a bunch of mechanical claws with R.A.I-"

"What?"

"Rudimentary Artificial Intelligence."

"-I've got engines up the wazoo complaining about EVERYTHING under the bloody sun, which, admittedly is not that far from the usual status quo, but it has become ESPECIALLY painful, there's apparently a magical goddess who apparently frolics with the rainbows and the pixies because she's so PERFECT, the entire Island's apparently stuck in a time loop, one of my closest friends has turned out to be a sleeper agent for an Illuminati for engines group, I've found out that one of my dear friends died because a swarm of bees were fiddled with AND MY PAINTWORK IS BEGINNING TO GET RUSTY, SO PLEASE, JUST. TELL. ME. THE. TRUTH."

Jinty was the first to speak after a two minute silence. "We assume that Boomer has managed to gather together enough members of his biker gang, and enough of the Other Railway staff members, to number over two hundred, maybe even three."

"Oh." Edward sighed in relief. "I mean, it's bad, don't get me wrong, but you had me thinking thousands, millions of humans swarming over with crowbars and guns and all that. No, we can probably deal with that!"

"And of course, not counting the Fat Director's lot as well. There's all the thousands of diesels that have been specially modified for combat, plus the various army vehicles that have been requisitioned over the past few years, from bombers to tanks to even a couple of lorries-"

Duck wasn't sure how he did it, but Edward had somehow managed to turn himself around and, in the wink of a eye, smashed Pug into a set of buffers. Pug squawked and fought back, but Edward wasn't to be shifted.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?!" He shrieked, any attempt at composure now lost.

"Get off me, you maniac! Duck, help me out!"

Duck coughed, aware that he was dangling on a tight rope that was rapidly fraying before his very eyes. "Now, er, Edward, please, I understand it looks bad-"

"Bad? BAD?!" Edward backed off, giving Pug the chance to breath again and glared at Duck. "This isn't bad. This has long left the same planet as bad. Tell me something, Duck, when would we have known that this was a possibility? The end of our world, shock of all shocks, is a pretty big deal for us!"

"I know, I know!" Duck said, miserably. "But I couldn't-"

"Blow your cover, no matter how much you wanted to, I know!" Edward's eyes were filled with something that approached legitimate hatred. "But I warn you, Duck. Any deaths from here on out? That's on you, because you and your two little gremlins here couldn't be arsed to give us a warning!"

"How amusing." said a silken voice. "I was about to say the very same thing."

The four of them froze, and Edward quickly backed up onto the nearest turntable. He spun around and came face to face with the leering visage of Diesel 10. Backing up once more, he joined Duck, Pug and Jinty, all of whom looked at the diesel with horror.

"I see my reputation proceeds me." Diesel 10 smiled, a sickening smile, the kind of smile that indicated that whatever the person smiling it was thinking, it wasn't pleasant in the slightest. "You know, it is fitting that I get to see you two-" His claw gestured towards Duck and Edward, who both looked as though they'd rather go through another mayoral election than be here at this moment. "-before all of this kicks off, as it was, because I'm got some things to get off my chest. If I had one."

Pug drew himself up to his full height, which admittedly wasn't much, and snapped back into professional mode. "By the powers invested in me, by the Iron Circle and the free engines of the world, I place you, Diesel 10, under custody."

"That'll work." muttered Jinty, sweating despite her sarcastic response.

"Oh, it is good to see that little do or die British spirit hasn't been beaten out of you yet, er, Pug, was it? You'll have to forgive me if my memories aren't that good, this body was severely damaged when it was given to me and-" He laughed. "Oh! That explains it, I suppose. Little residual spark of resistance building up inside me-"

"The hell are you on about?"

"Oh, so sorry, Edward, old chap!" Somehow, Diesel 10 managed to put a horrifying amount of emphasis on those last words, and somehow they managed to unsettle Edward. "Okay, kiddies, little lesson, seeing as you are very far away from anyone who could even remotely help you- And don't even think about trying to go back, my associates are already making sure the line is blocked. What do you know about me? As in, Diesel 10, not the Malevolence."

"Less than we should." admitted Duck.

"All right, try this one on for size. How did I get here?"

"Via ferry. Or the mainland bridge." Jinty remarked, on edge. "Is there a point to this?"

"Oh there is. And you are correct in a way, Miss Jinty. I did arrive over the Vicarstown Bridge. Or rather, part of me did. You see, I am in a somewhat precarious situation at the moment. I have not the power to manifest myself in my true body, there is still a final piece of me lodged in that delightful little scamp known as Marklin, so I required this patchwork job."

"Still not seeing a point here, Ten." remarked Edward, trying to sound bored.

"Oh I shall get there, my good sir! When you are as old as the universe itself,you begin to get a little picky about the forms you inhabit. Not a human, said I, for I've used humans in the past as vessels, and they have always gone wrong. No, to take the form that will turn this world to ashes, I wanted one that would be truly fitting to destroy my arch-rival with. A train. The simple talking trains that gave her so much joy. Got parts from Russia thanks to the Juggernaut, the US from Boomer, even a bit from my other half's former home country of Germany. But the main body, this-" He gestured again with his claw "-this all came from Sodor. Do you want to know how?"

Duck suddenly turned pale. "No."

"Now, you see, Duck here kept up a regular correspondence with the Flying Scotsman and the City of Truro, reporting, as it were, on the main events of the island. According to them, there were communication difficulties. At first, there weren't. But then we realized what a unique chance it was. We took advantage of it. All the information went through us first. A few minutes of delay would hardly be noticed by Truro and Scotsman. In fact, it would almost be expected.

How the Island's anti-aircraft guns were being armed, how the nuclear shelters were located in every section of the town, Davidson's many mines and explosives left under the track...even down to the location of the hidden catacombs that the electric engine used to use to get around the Island. All of the Island's weakest points and strongest defenses have been cataloged and studied and analyzed to death over the past twelve or thirteen years. The Iron Circle, set up to protect the engines of the world, ironically had given us the perfect way to eliminate them."

Diesel 10 was enjoying himself, but with great effort, he got back on track. "And the engines too! We studied all of them. Every last one. Every little reference, every last place of work, all their vices and virtues. Finally we found a candidate to become the host of my essence. One who wouldn't be missed, one whose work took him all over the Island...one who was due a transfer. And so if he vanished for a year or so? Well, what was the problem with that? An excuse could always be made, and it was very easy. Easier than you could have possibly imagined.

For a spy, Duck, you, Mr Pug and Miss Jinty were very easy to fool. Oh, and I thank you two as well! The notes that your drivers and firemen provided the Iron Circle on the biology and anatomy of the living and breathing engines? Perfect. Yes it appears you aren't as clever as you like to think, after all."

By now, all three of the spies were deathly white. Pug, for the first time, was without the ability to say or shout anything, as the horrible realization dawned on him. Jinty was shaking, her mouth silently moving. And as for Duck, he actually seemed to be on the verge of keeling over right there and then.

"So-" he stammered at last "-so the only reason that you're here..."

"Is because of YOU!" Diesel 10 laughed hard at this. "Isn't it ironic? The three engines entrusted to protect the last safe haven of steam engines, and to find their god, will be the ones responsible for the destruction of every living thing made of metal and wood on this Island!"

"Wait." Edward frowned. "Who was your body?"

Diesel 10 smiled, and his voice changed yet again.

But this time... this time it was a very familiar voice.

"Hello, Edward, old chum! How are you? Those twins, eh, still causing mischief? Why'd you leave me, Edward? To die? It was painful, Edward. The claw, and the heat, and the acid and the molten metal pouring over my body. Why didn't you save me, Edward? I thought we were friends."

Edward started backwards in shock. Duck stared in horror at the way 10's face had shifted. It looked so...unbearably familiar. The smile, the eyes, the voice, it only belonged to one other engine he knew of-

"BoCo?" whispered Edward, bafflement clear in his voice. And then it clicked. "No..." he croaked, his throat suddenly dry. "You...you couldn't have. He...You didn't!"

"I did!"

Edward felt as though his entire boiler was about to burst. "But...but he...he can't be dead...this is a trick! Duck, this is just a trick, right?! This is another one of those Malevolence tricks, the kind that he used to get Boomer on his side, right?!" He looked desperately to Duck.

Duck couldn't look him in the eye.

"Duck!?" Edward's voice was desperate now, pleading, and Duck realized with a great amount of pain that he had never even heard Edward sound like this, like a scared child trying desperately to get his parents to tell him everything was going to be all right. "BoCo's still alive, isn't he?! Come on Duck, please, you're scaring me right now, he, he, he's got to be alive, he just has to-"

Duck couldn't even muster up the courage to say the single, terrible word.

"Duck?" Edward began shaking violently. "Oh...nonononononono-"

"It was painful!" 10 was so jauntily cheerful. "Oh my! We ripped his face off last, in all honesty, because watching his eyes roll back into his head was just too much fun to pass up! We dipped him rear first into this huge pool of molten metal, and oh how he SCREAMED! I can't quite recall what his last words were, there was far too much bellowing in agony as we ripped his eyes out to replace them with these much improved ones. Pretty sure it was something along the lines of "Help, Edward, help." something like that. Could have just as easily been "Aaaaaah!" for all I remember."

Edward stared, and then let out the most heart-wrenching wail that Duck had ever heard. It sounded as though his very soul had been stabbed.

And then, with supreme effort, the blue engine shuddered once...and snapped back into chilly calm. "You will die. You will all die. I will make sure of it."

"Bring it on, as I believe the kids are saying."

"You-" Pug was trembling, but not with fear, but with outright anger. "YOU BASTARD!" And he raced forward, disregarding the shaken Jinty's plea to stop. Already, his buffer beam was splitting to reveal a machine gun in place-

-which 10 crushed like a Styrofoam cup, before his claw reached out and grabbed hold of Pug's face. "Let's see how long this lasts. I'm curious, because honestly, you engines barely put up much of a fight, do you?" Pug's gasps of pain were becoming weaker and weaker as the claw began to pull his face from the steambox. "You lasted a lot less than BoCo, I'll be honest. He didn't even tell us anything important. I mean, we knew he didn't know anything important, but he didn't even try and barter for his own life. You, on the other hand-"

It was at that moment that Edward raced forward and poured every ounce of his furious frame into smashing Diesel 10 backwards. It worked...to a extent, as the claw also took a large amount of Pug's head with it. With a hideous groaning noise, black smoke poured out of the shell of the tank engine, and it collapsed backwards, dead.

For a split second, Jinty stared at Pug's corpse. Then, with a roar that shook the trees, she charged towards Diesel 10, switching onto the opposite line to avoid the grip of the claw.

"GO!" She bellowed to Duck and Edward. "I'LL HOLD HIM OFF!"

"Jinty-"

"Make this worth it, Montague! Make it worth it!"

"Aw, how cute." 10 caught hold of her buffers, and tugged hard. "Let's see what you've got under-" He stared at the twin AK-47's in the section where her buffers should have been "-there?"

"Rule Britannia!"

As the gunfire reigned, both engines rushed onto the branch line. Duck glanced at Edward, and was horrified to see his expression.

"You wouldn't!" Edward shouted as they crashed through the trees, desperately. "I...I know you had to do some things, but please, Duck, tell me you didn't give away all of our military secrets! To them?!" Edward was half crazed by this point, anger and sorrow and disbelief clashing against each other like gladiators in a Colosseum. "You've given an army their way onto the Island of Sodor!"

"i...I had to!" Duck insisted, though it felt more and more hollow as he thought about it. "Truro and Scotsman demanded it! For the safety of everyone, just...please, hear me out-"

Edward let out a roar of frustration and anger, such that the island had never heard before.

"I know! I know, and I'm so sorry!" Duck was on the verge of crying as well. "But, but we can mourn him once we-"

"Surprise!" Splatter and Dodge grabbed hold of Duck by the buffers. "We can't have you leaving us, can we, Splatter? Not until we've had our fun!" Splatter laughed hysterically at Dodge's statement.

"RUN EDWARD! RUN!" Even as Duck fought, he had just enough time to see Edward vanish through a clump of trees. He felt a twinge of sadness as Edward barely even looked back.

Not that he didn't deserve it. The thought of BoCo, screaming in agony as he was slowly being torn apart was...he shuddered. Edward had to be in a world of pain right now.

The scream from behind him, and the shudder inducing snap that followed, made Duck say a silent prayer for both Jinty and Pug. He hadn't liked them, but the two of them had fought bravely for... for whatever it was they fought for, and they had given their lives in service of engine-kind.

"Now-" said 10, limping over. "-we won't keep you long. Just one single code, is all that we need, and then-" He smiled, bitterly. "Well, we'll let fate decide, shall we?" His bullet ridden face twisted into a sneer, and as Duck was dragged off, he watched as Jinty and Pug's bodies were hauled off with him.

No one was any the wiser.

...

Edward crashed through brambles and bushes and trees and various other growing plants. He didn't even feel the blows to his face anymore. He felt numb., and his thoughts whirred around his head, bouncing off his mind and not sticking for more than a second before they went off again.

He rushed on. He briefly wondered if Duck was okay, but then the far angrier part of his brain, the one that listened to reason about as much as Gordon listened to little engines, smacked back his reason and began furiously ranting about it was all Duck's fault, that it was because of him that BoCo was-

-was-

He still couldn't think it. He still couldn't make the connection.

"Do not blame him, Edward."

He slammed on his brakes, desperately looking around for the voice in case it was one of the diesels after him, but he skidded onwards, and he shut his eyes before the buffers knocked him back.

It was only a minute or so after he kept going that he realized that he should have hit the buffers by this point, and he opened his eyes to find himself...in the strangest place he had ever seen.

It was a tunnel. Or at least, that was what it resembled to a extent. Everywhere there were trees, trees that Edward had never seen or even heard of before, reaching out, branches that seemed to grip hold of the rails, roots that seemed to wrap around the strange, pulsating green light that lit this...place. The rails seemed to be made out of normal materials, but then if he looked closer, he could see that it also seemed to be pulsating. As thought it was...breathing.

He couldn't stop either, and he let out a scream of terror, for now the roots were coming to life, and they were reaching out, climbing towards his cab and his wheels, the branches were clawing at his eyes and mouth, he was being smothered in the wood-

And then, with a mighty whoosh and a strange sound like the jangling of bells, he smashed through into daylight, onto rails that were somehow so much bigger than he was used to, and at last, he dived into the best thing he could think of, a old siding, which would provide shelter, protection... perhaps even safety.

And as he stopped there, panting and whimpering as he heard the sounds of strange trains and people talking, he closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down. But of course, he couldn't. The island was going to be under attack soon, Duck had just been kidnapped, he was lost in a strange yard, evil incarnate was on the prowl and BoCo was-

-was-

-was...

BoCo was dead, he forced himself to admit. He's dead. He's gone.

Edward sat there, in the cold siding, and stewed. He thought long and hard about his next move, if there was any next move to be made. He waited until night to fall, and all the while, he thought only of the idea of crushing Diesel 10 beneath his wheels, watching the light fade from his eyes...snuffing his life out completely.

He didn't cry. Not once.

No matter how hard he wanted to.

---

Dramatic!

REVIEW TIME.

Game-Watch: I know, right. Weird time to be alive!.

MattPrice01: Glad you appreciate it, my man! Ha! I'm glad that I'm doing something right!

Kamen Rider Necrom: There will be CRUSHING involved!

Bronze Shield: Yay! Glad it worked, that movie was a decent one in my opinion, and I figured that having a nice bit of slapstick couldn't hurt. Might do a few lighter moments like that as I go along.

bigyihsuan: My apologies, good sir! This one is a little shorter than the last one, but not by much! Hope you enjoy despite the length!

Reality Rejection Service: That is is. Basically, any errors that pop up are a result of the shoddy translation of the real events to the big screen.

Radical sandwiches: Thank you, thank you! Please, by all means, go into more depth! Benedict Cumberbatch is definitely what I'm hearing when I write Ten's serious dialogue. Splatter and Dodge being rewritten was just because I wanted to do something interesting with them! Glad you enjoyed so much!

TrainManiac: Yep! And spoiler, that might not be the longest chapter I've got planned for the story! Sean Pertwee actually makes a lot of sense, considering what his voice sounded like in the original trailers. I'm hearing him as Benedict Cumberbatch, so somewhere in the middle there's a good medium. Hope you've enjoyed this one!

Greatwestern1522: Wellllllll who knows? Perhaps...I'm not going to say a word.

AaronCottrell97: Thank you so much! Yeah, it's...rough. Not going to lie, there'll be some points where I will literally wave my hands in the air and say "I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S HAPPENING!" so just to warn you.

UGX7: Thank you! And don't worry man, take your time. And hey, a Transformers fan! Neat! Diesel 10 and Blitzwing is actually a great comparison! Except Diesel 10 is more serious most of the time! And those are some damn fine ideas you have!

So, some notes!

-I forgot to mention this last time, but 199 is actually Spamcan from the story Super Rescue. I included him here in the original draft, because I had originally planned to include him as a reoccurring villain in Season 4 and 5. This did not pan out, but I did want to use him again, I didn't want a nameless character to be such a threat to Oliver. What happens if Super Rescue gets adapted like the Small Railway Engines stories? I'll cross that bridge when I reach it.

-Finally, Duck's secret has been revealed! For those of you with good memories, the Iron Circle was the official name given to Lady's advisors in the sections set in Medieval times during the past segments in season 5. Scotsman and co co-opted it's use to try and show their commitment to finding out and protecting Lady at all costs! A lot of thought has gone into this, even down to specific character reactions. Percy and Duck's friendship was one of the best parts of Season 2 and 3 for me, hence Percy's somewhat hurt reaction here. Toby knowing that Duck was a spy was a reference to a throwaway line in Season 5 where he admitted to having figured it out. For those who think Edward might be overreacting, I think that it's a fair reaction to learning that one of your friends has had a ulterior motive for staying with you for years, and on top of that, you're not sure if he's telling the truth or not.

-You'll note that the story that Henry tells, while having the basic facts down, does not match what happened in Season 5. This is deliberate, as it's a fairytale retelling of the events by people who weren't there. It's an idealized version.

-Poor Jinty and Pug. From the moment I started writing the original draft, I knew they'd die as proof that Diesel 10 really was not messing around much. I had originally wondered about having their deaths be the first scene instead of the attack on the Iron Circle's HQ, but I wanted it to have more impact, so I moved it here.

-You'll note that this chapter is very much Edward focused, for the most part. That was actually deliberate, as it's going to be the last point for a good while in story that Edward's going to be on the Island where the thick of the action is, and with the rest of the engines. He's not being taken out of the story, because I want to make up for him not being in the movie at all, but he's definitely going to have a smaller role for a bit.

-The Duck explanation scene went through several different drafts. Originally, as back when I wrote the first draft I hadn't even started Season 4 yet, a lot of the information about Lady and the Old Ones was put here, before I scrapped that and put it into Season 5. Then, I was originally planning on having Duck show the engines a video of Scotsman briefing him on the mission. Again, this got cut because I felt that it didn't flow right. Hence the flashback!

-Speaking of said flashback, the engines included in the upper echelons (bar Truro and Eustace, the former of whom appeared in the Railway Series before, and the latter who was merely a cameo in one of the books) are those who appear in the book Thomas and the Great Railway Show. For those unaware, these are Duchess of Hamilton, Iron Duke, Mallard, Green Arrow and Stephenson's Rocket. But wait, I hear you cry! Stephenson's Rocket? But what about Stephen? What about King of the Railway? All in good time, I say back! If you haven't worked out by now, I always have a plan!

-The items in Sir Topham Hatt's office are somewhat random, but some of them in particular are references to the way that I first watched this film, on VHS. The Magic Stars and Thomas the Tank Engine models were advertised before the film started, and thus have always stuck in my mind otherwise. There'll be little references like that throughout the story.

-Continuing the Railway Series references, King James is a real engine also! He was also mentioned in the book 'James and the Diesel Engines', which has always been a favorite of mine from the Christopher Awdry books. This in no small part is down to the Ted Robbins narration. King James I was scrapped in 1964, though not by sentient diesels who hated steam.

-Speaking of which, this brings me onto the last little point. Truro makes a distinction here between the sentient and non-sentient engines that are being killed. This is me stretching a little bit to sort of keep the story light hearted. Truth be told, the Beeching Act is HORRIFYING in the Thomas universe, because that means that god knows how many sentient engines were put to death because they weren't useful any more. Hence the creation of the Other Railway all those episodes ago in the Abridged series, which gives me a convenient scapegoat for killing off any living, breathing engines. In-universe, though I won't get to say it, Beeching was very clear that killing off the sentient engines was not cool. It was just that the Other Railway had so much leeway that they could do what they liked.

Next time! Things happen! More plot, more shenanigans, more everything!