Part 7: The Drums of War
Boomer wasn't going to brag, but his powers were so massive right now that he felt he could do anything he wanted. He decided to test that theory out. He snapped his fingers.
Everyone in Shining Time were carrying on their lives so well that if they did notice that the entire valley was now being ripped from Gaia herself and being lifted up by magic, they didn't react that badly to it. That was just how it went down. They also didn't react when the surrounding countryside taken with them became covered with massive expanses of railroad track.
"HOLY SHIT! I'VE GOT THE POWER"
"Calm down, Boomer." The Fat Director was getting agitated. "Why hasn't the Malevolence reported in yet?"
"Give it a minute, boss." Boomer cackled to himself, and snapped his fingers once more. A time portal opened up besides him. "Let's get a nice look at all that carnage, shall we?"
"...Why?"
"Why what?"
"How can you do that?"
"The story said I can. Nuff said."
"...You're a very odd man, Mr Boomer."
And so everyone in the station turned to watch the massive rip in time like it was a Saturday morning, and there was a new episode of Roobarb on.
It was a weird day.
...
One of the technicians looked over to what remained of the Iron Circle. "Bad news sir. Axel's just informed us that there are a bunch of diesels heading out way. And they don't look happy!"
"Define a bunch?"
There was a pause. "About twenty, sir. All massive, if I'm reading this right." The technician gulped. "It doesn't look good."
"We've got to get out of here. No matter the cost!"
Scotsman rolled his eyes at this. "Thanks, Truro, whatever would we do without you?"
"Scotsman, sir, I'm serious!" Truro looked around, clearly thinking. "Right then, now, all humans should evacuate the building and try and make it to the Bluebell Railway. Stepney may not be answering his calls, but I'm sure that he and the others there will be more than happy to take care of you while we deal with this. Are all defenses readied?"
"Yes sir, but..."
"But what?"
"...The main HQ was supposed to be the most well defended and best kept secret in the UK. They walked through our defenses like they were paper." The technician didn't flinch under the glare from Truro. "So, in this somewhat worse off area...Yeah, I don't see that working."
Truro muttered something under his breath. "Fine. Scotsman, Etienne...I don't feel like living forever. If we die now, we die in a blaze of bloody glory! Who's with me?"
No one was, willingly. But there was very little they could do in such a situation, so they waited for the first breach. As they did so, Scotsman glanced over to the corner, where Derek had passed out after drinking the entire supply of oil that they had been given. His important information had, it turned out, been nothing of the kind. At least, if it was important, it had long since been filtered through the nonsense that was Derek's mind to become completely incomprehensible.
The first breach came soon enough, as Dodge rolled in, his eyes already flickering with delight at getting to play with the Iron Circle. "Kill them all!" He snarled. "But leave Truro to me!"
The two sides charged.
...
Thomas the Tank Engine felt as though he was being torn apart.
It is hard to put into words what exactly happened the second that he hit the buffers. The best way to describe this feeling is that Thomas's entire equilibrium had been turned upside down, back to front, inside out and crumpled, and then rearranged again in an equally as painful manner. Now imagine all of that, WHILE being on every kind of high you can.
His senses failed him. Taste, touch, smell, sound, and even sight, were of no use to him. He saw colours that had no names, shades that he had never even thought of before, he perceived and understood nothing.
And then suddenly, he was on the other side of the buffers. He gasped, and retched, but luckily he had nothing to vomit up. And once he was as recovered as he was likely to be, the first words out of his mouth were "Lily?! You okay?!"
"I guess!" She sounded shaky, on edge. Thomas didn't blame her. He took a deep breath, and looked around.
He was still on rails. Except these rails seemed to be different. They felt wrong. Like they had been burned, or corrupted somehow. Around him, he saw what to him looked like crystalline trees, bushes, plants, reaching over and creating the sensation of a tunnel around him. Then again, as he had just proved, his senses weren't that reliable. Beyond the strange and eerie blue light that shone upon him, he just had a sense that there was unending darkness stretching away. And through the gaps in the trees, he saw things that could be, or could have been, or might be.
There was a universe where he was painted in the teal colors of the old railway he had used to work on, in Brighton. He saw another where three great mechanical...things that resembled Gordon, Henry and James strode across the Island, towering over the humans. In another, there were two strange creatures talking to him and four other engines in what appeared to be Japanese. My word, he thought, what was I smoking there?
More disturbing were a series of images of the seven main engines of the fleet smirking coldly at a group of humans who appeared to be chained up. All of them looked as though they were very much enjoying this new found power, especially with the Nineteen Eighty Four-esque posters behind them.
And then there was a universe where James and Edward appeared to be tongue kissing. Thomas vowed to remove the image from his brain post-haste.
The worst part was the sound. It sounded like the entire railway was whispering, hissing, murmuring. And nothing they were saying sounded good.
"Right, well then…." Thomas looked back longingly towards where he had come from. "I suppose we must move forwards."
"Yes."
Nothing happened for a moment.
"You first, Thomas."
"Oh…right." And laughing it off as best he could, Thomas started forwards. "Oh, so what if it's dark, and cold, and bumpy, and it feels like I've just stepped into hell! I am not afraid!"
"Then why are you shaking?!"
"I just said it was cold, didn't I!? That's why!" Thomas did a double take as he reached a set of points. "Hang on, isn't that the missing coal truck!? I wonder if I'll get into trouble for that."
"Coal truck? Sure you don't mean coal car?"
"Bloody yanks."
"But seriously….something Mr Conductor said. Stoke up the magic in the mountain! It's a clue to his gold dust!"
"Well that is the purpose of coal, to help us stoke up and make steam. So, you think we should go back and get it?"
"Put it this way, it can't hurt."
Thomas growled and continued onwards despite this. "I've had it right up to here with Mr Bloody Conductor and his bloody gold dust! I hope the others are having less trouble than we are."
…
The first that any of the engines heard of the actual first line was when U.L.P, the truck, noticed several large ships in the distance. These were no ordinary ships; these were proper military ones. A small amount of them were heading over towards the burned out wreck of Knapford Harbor, but the vast majority were making, much to the horror of every truck there, towards Bluff's Cove.
Quickly, the news was passed up the line as best they could, til at last it reached Edward at Crovan's Gate. The engine was firm, and quickly ordered that the turrets were to begin firing on the boats the second that they beached.
And then came even worse news.
"They've got through Vicarstown!" shouted out a horrified Rusty. "They're going to be held up by the trucks there for the moment, but that'll never last!"
"Right, listen, we've got to hold this section or else that's it! Henry, Douglas, quickly now, head on over and see what you can-"
Which was when the first bomb dropped.
...
KNAPFORD HARBOR.
"What the hell is that?!"
Donald turned around rather quickly on the turntable. His face suddenly seemed to drain of all color as he saw the massive fireball arising from the general direction of Crovan's Gate. "My god!" he half-whispered, half-shouted. "They've got bombers!"
The flashing lights of the Other Railway's own personal air force briefly illuminated the docks in the brightest light possible. Using the old harbor had been a trick by Edward to try and get the injured out somewhat safely. No one would have checked the old burnt out remains of the harbor, and that was for sure. Donald would laugh in his face the next time he saw him.
"Activate the anti-air turrets!" snapped Mavis. The trucks did so, and as the tell-tale sound of bombers began to drift down from overhead, the turrets turned as one towards the sound and began to fire again and again.
"Ach, ye cannae hold them off forever! It'd be easier if we had some humans to help with the loading up!"
"Well we don't!" snapped Cranky. "That's the last lot of coaches!"
And then one of the bombers got lucky, as it dropped its cargo. A red saddle tank was rushing through, pushing a line of trucks to try and hold the line. He had no chance. Within seconds his body was merely a charred scattering of metal. This seemed to galvanize the others to action, as they began to move out. Cranky swung his hook deliberately towards the lucky bomber, bringing it down into the Sodor Shipping Co building.
The light was so blinding that for a moment no one was able to really see anything properly. But then it cleared, and with a roar, the bombers fell back for a moment.
A sigh of relief had only halfway escaped Donald's lips when he suddenly realized that there were far more diesels than there should be. And oh my, these diesels looked wrong. Black paint, black wheels, black side rods, and some sort of mask over their faces, leaving only hard, cold eyes behind a visor. With a grimace, Donald felt the attached gun twitch a little. He took a deep breath-
-and fired.
...
"Come on, come on, why are you so sure that this is the fastest way there?!"
"Ach, dinnae argue, man!"
"I work with James and Gordon for a living, I'm afraid that we have a problem there!" Henry spotted a signal box. "Listen, you head over there, I need to make sure that they're okay up at the quarry! Good hunting, jock!"
"Aye! And the same to ye, sassanach!" Douglas took off in the general direction of the Vicarstown area, while Henry quickly had the points divert him through the valley towards Anopha. As he rushed across, he became aware that the rails were beginning to get rather hard to rely on. The branch-lines weren't meant for main-line engines usually, but in this case, he feared it would be the only way. As he rushed on, he watched as the planes began to circle around the old harbor. Thank God Brendam was still in one piece, he thought.
He had just crossed the tiered bridge when he heard a very odd sound. Ahead there were a set of points, and as he rushed towards the section that would take him across the watermill and into the quarry, he saw three diesels, the same size as BoCo, rush towards him. Frantically, he made sure to swerve to the left, just as the first diesel narrowly clipped his tender. As he listened to their curses, he raced on, past the watermill, until at last, he spotted the level crossing.
"NOW, BERTIE!"
Bertie the Bus had been waiting there, having had the same idea as Henry. With a roar of his engine, he rushed across the road just as Henry cleared the crossing. Gritting his teeth, Bertie slammed through the crossing gate, slamming directly into the first diesel. With a grunt of pain, the diesel collapsed, blocking the track even as Bertie hurried backwards from the incoming henchmen.
All he could think was to get back to the rest of the main non-railers, then maybe, just maybe, they stood a chance!
...
When the light had finally died down, Edward was able to open his eyes again. The bomb had landed remarkably close to them. The bridge above them was almost completely vaporized, just a few hanging bits of masonry left now. The Skarloey gang looked at each other in terror, and Edward suddenly realized that they didn't have long before the entire area was covered in Other Railway staff.
"TAKE COVER! TRUCKS! FORWARD!"
Trucks rushed from the yard. All sorts. Open top, cattle wagons, box wagons, vans, salt wagons, break vans, narrow and standard gauge alike, all roaring towards the oncoming diesel army. Now completely with the permission of the other engines, they lunged at the diesels, snapping their teeth and throwing themselves into their gears, hoping to do some damage at least, or to slow them down. The enemy wasn't expecting this, clearly, and the first wave were quickly dealt with. Edward didn't let that get to him though, but he did let out a whoop briefly.
"That's it! Good lads! Give em hell!" Edward backed up. "All right, Bill, Ben, anyone you find, unleash all manner of hells upon them!"
"You're telling us to ACTUALLY be naughty?"
"You're bloody right I am! NOW!"
"SIR!" Bill would have snapped a salute, had he arms. Instead, he and Ben immediately rushed from the remains of the bridge and towards the open line. "Ben! The Clay Pits!"
Edward looked around for the number four engine. He needed him now more than ever, and it was a sign of how bad things were that he wasn't joking in the slightest. "Now, Gordon, I-"
But Gordon was gone.
...
The main line had never known something like it. As Gordon rushed through Knapford, he was aware of the fact that there were more and more diesels heading towards the big station. Not on his bloody watch. He picked up speed, so much speed that it looked like it was physically hurting him.
The first diesel turned somersaults in the air, the second was bowled into a wall, the third was knocked into the sticky wagons of tar that had been left behind. The others seemed to scarper, or some of them did, the remainder headed for the station itself. But they too were soon surrounded, by the Spiteful Breakvan's lot, who promptly battered them to pieces.
And all the while, Gordon thundered on, his anger building up in him like a storm. Some unlucky trucks were smashed to pieces as the express engine rolled on by. He wasn't sure if they were on his side or theirs, but he didn't care. All he could think was that he was going to end this one way or another. Diesel 10 was his! He was the fastest, and the best, and the express engine, and he didn't back away from petty tin pot tyrants! He'd shown Hitler, he'd sure as hell show Ten!
For a moment, he almost stopped as he raced through the Ballahoo tunnel, at the sight of several unfortunate engines who had been unable to get out of the way, completely gutted and spilled open. But he carried on, gritting his teeth as he moved along the open line.
...
Back on the mainland, the battle was actually going well.
The Duchess of Hamilton smacked aside the diesels, and even as they got back up, she grimly focused on keeping moving, let them wear themselves out before attacking again. Mallard and Green Arrow darted about the place, using sudden attacks to slam diesels into the wall again and again, taking more and more of them out. Etienne let loose electric charge after electric charge, frying their engines and giving Iron Duke a chance to give them what for.
Scotsman and Truro were now locked in battle against Dodge. Somehow, the little diesel shunter was a hell of a fighter. Scotsman's wall-mounted machine guns would fire upon the diesel, only for them to be destroyed with a cocky little laugh. Truro, for all his talk about a 'bloody blaze of glory' was being far more careful with his attacks.
"HA! IS THIS IT?!" Dodge suddenly seemed a lot less calm, and Truro couldn't help but wonder which of the two was worse, Splatter or the one right in front of him. "When they told me I had to take out you lot, I was almost...almost scared! But this?! Pah!" And with strength greater than anyone would have given him credit for, he slammed into Scotsman with such force that the great engine was forced off his wheels and onto the hard ground besides the rails.
The entire building shook, it hadn't been made for fighting.
And then Dodge did something that took everyone by surprise. One of the guns was sort of...stuck, the bullets were trying to make their way through the barrel, but for whatever reason they weren't. With a grin, Dodge nudged it. Just a little bit.
The bullets shot out with such force that they raced towards Truro. The great engine had no time to move, as they thudded into the spot where his face should have been with such force that had there actually been a face there, it would have been all over.
Dodge laughed triumphantly.
And then he stopped.
...
Donald had taken out the first line with his gun in seconds, and then he had returned his attention to Cranky, who was now desperately swinging his hook at something else. The edge of the ferry.
"What are you doing!?" snapped Mavis.
"Getting out of her, you crazy bint, what else?!" hissed Cranky. "I'm not dying here, not for the likes of you! Sod your war, I'm out!" And once more he swung, this time scraping the side of the ship.
"Yer're not going anywhere! We need to get as many of the auxiliary engines out as possible! It's them we should be worried about!" Donald was passionate and angry, a terrible combination in a Caledonian.
"Screw you, you ruddy hooligan!" snarled Cranky, and made a last desperate swing at the boat. He missed.
The plane, however, did not. With a heartrending scream, Cranky toppled backwards, part of his stand splitting apart. It was only because Donald and Maviswere there to catch him that he didn't fall apart completely.
"Ye get the others on-board, we get ye on-board! Kapische, ye bloody prat!?"
"FINEFINEJUSTGETMEUP!" roared Cranky in a blind panic. Suddenly, there was an almost deafening blaring sound of horns in the distance, and Mavis turned around to see the second line. These were tougher, far stronger, just from the look of the armor alone there was a clear difference. The Juggernaut had clearly been an inspiration in their design. Donald turned the gun on them, but it was less use this time, and they were in for the fight of their lives.
Whilst this was going on, the Work's Diesel quickly slipped out of Knapford Harbour and towards the general direction of Crovan's Gate.
"AYE! YON WORKS DIESEL! GET BACK!"
...
Thomas was so terrified by all the stuff that was going on that he was beginning to think he was going legitimately insane. "Are you still there, Lily?" He asked for the tenth time.
"Yes, I'm here."
"Got to be responsible. Reliable. Really Useful." Thomas paused. "Oh sod this for a game of soldiers! We're going back to get that coal truck, because SCREW IT, I don't know! And don't say a word, Lily, I know, all right?"
"Not a word."
"I'd say that I understand that buffers, coal trucks and everything are helping us solve the mystery, but no, I have no frigging clue what it is I'm doing right now." He groaned. "Why am I here?"
"Because you're a really useful engine, Thomas."
Thomas paused, and smiled, genuinely. "Thanks kid. Appreciate it." And as he puffed off, coupled up to the coal truck, he began to move faster. "Come on! Let's get you home!" As he gathered speed, he spotted a second set of buffers at the end. Time to be really useful, at last. God he wanted a drink. "Hold on to me, Lilly! This is going to be a bit-"
...
"Come on lads!" Butch was leading Terrance, Trevor and Caroline along the road. He was determined to make sure that they helped out as best they could. For the most part, they had encountered very little in the way of resistance. What they had found was bodies. Innumerable amount of trucks was shattered across the road, making it very hard for those with delicate tires to cross, and once or twice they saw the scattered remains of a few engines unlucky enough to be caught in the blast or having been cut down by the Juggernaut, who was wiping out any Auxiliary engines unfortunate enough to be in his way.
At last, they reached the crossroads near Crosby. The station itself was not heavily guarded. It was in no way a main priority for the engines or the diesels. A few scattered trucks, led by Rickety the bright orange one, were passing through, but nothing more. "GET EM, HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Well, at the very least, he was having a great time.
Well, nothing more wasn't quite true.
With a rather nasty crushing sound, George rolled onto the tracks, squashing the rails and the crossing gate beneath his roller. Behind him, the three horrid lorries gathered, growling. "Well, well, look what we have here!"
"Let us pass, George." said Butch, grimly. "And I will speak at your trial. I will tell them that you came back and helped us when you could have just left us alone! I shall show mercy!"
"I think it's rather late in the day for reprieves, even if I was feeling sorry for myself. Which I'm not this. This is the best bloody time we've had of it, isn't that right boys!?"
"Yeah!"
"Right on!"
"You said it, bruv!"
"So, you betray your own kind, and for what? A roller rink? You disgust me!" Butch's eyes flashed. "These engines are arrogant and foolish, but they are good at heart! How DARE YOU!?"
"Oh come on, Butch. You don't really believe in all that pesky hippy dippy love stuff, do you? No one cares about you. You don't get to speak, you don't get remembered, you're just a side character." George's grin dropped. "So come on then. Let's finish this!" And so saying, he lurched forwards towards Butch, who began to swing his hook like crazy. The second round began.
Behind him, Trevor and Terrance braced themselves for the fight. Trevor was well aware that he was old and past it, and didn't see how he'd be able to last, but determined he was. Terrance's smile never faded. Not even for an instant. And Caroline didn't even prepare, she just let out an ear-piercing shriek of rage and drove straight at the Horrid Lorries with all of her fury and passion directed at them. They were somewhat unprepared for the flighty car to be so... passionate, and so were slow to fight. She swung and revved her tires right in their faces and hit them again and again.
It was slightly terrifying.
Butch's hook scrammed against George's face. The steamroller snarled, and rolled forward with greater speed than anyone would have suspected. Butch backed up, spun around and sprayed dirt all over Caroline.
"AH DO DECLARE, THAT IS TREASON!" she screeched, racing forward and smashing her radiator directly into Lorry 3's jaw...well sort of, lorry anatomy is hard to describe in detail.
"Sorry!"
...
Along the River Eis, several of the diesel tugs were chugging along, with several members of Zero's company making sure that nothing could get in their way. With a roar of the engine, they suddenly lurched forward as they spotted two engines crossing the bridge up ahead.
"Come on James! Hurry up! I think we've lost them! Damn it!"
"I'm coming as fast as I can!"
"We're almost-Oh shit!" Percy increased speed. "Faster James! There's boats coming up the river!"
"Maybe they're here to fish!"
"Does it look like the one with a ROCKET LAUNCHER is here to fish!? IT DOESN'T TO ME!" Percy had just cleared the bridge when the missile launched. The latter part of the bridge collapsed, and the columns that were left remaining couldn't hold the weight no matter what. James shoved off onto the branch-line a mere second before the last section of the bridge collapsed completely.
"Follow them! They can't have gone far!" shouted the main driver.
James caught up with Percy at Elsbridge. "Listen! I've been thinking! The boats can't follow us up here, so maybe we should split up!"
"A good idea! Right, I'll go this way, you go that way!"
"But that way's blocked by diesels!"
"I'm disappointed you noticed! See you later!" And so saying, Percy rushed off in the general direction of the old abandoned quarry, where Boulder had used to be. James stammered and hemmed and hawed for a moment, before letting loose a powerful whistle that attracted most of their attention and driving off in the direction of one of the more out of the way stations.
If he died here being bloody heroic he was going to let the engines have it in the next life.
...
Bulstrode opened his eye lazily. He had been asleep for a very long time, as he didn't enjoy it when children played on him, and felt it was best served if he went to sleep and groused to himself.
Upon seeing the tanks roll off the boats, he closed his eyes once more.
Then he opened both fully in shock and horror as he promptly registered what it was he was actually seeing. The tanks themselves were small, squat, but very, very dangerous looking. As the soldiers advanced up the beach, each carrying very powerful looking guns, the tank rolled forward and looked around.
"I say! You there! How dare you!? GET OFF MY BEACH!"
As last words go, they are not, perhaps, the best ones. With a single blast, the tank obliterated Bulstrode without a second thought. And then they advanced onwards, blasting the Little Western to pieces, leaving only the ruins of Duck's home for the last few years of his life. Bang went Tidmouth Hault. Bang went the engine sheds there. And bang, with great severity, went the tunnel to the beach.
...
"-dicey!" Thomas gasped and opened his eyes. He looked around frantically, as he dug his wheels in tightly to the mountain soil. "Lily, where are we?!"
The girl pulled herself to her feet and looked around. "Muffle Mountain! We made it!"
Thomas glanced towards the valley. Or rather, what remained of it. A massive crater in the ground that looked bottomless had formed. Up above, he could see the massive chunk of land where Shining Time now was. The countryside there was marred with railway lines, on which rested many, many diesels, all looking very happy with themselves. "Bloody hell, they've got an entire armada here!" He closed his eyes and tried not to throw up. "Feel a little dizzy, not going to lie- WHERE ARE YOU GOING!?"
"To get grandpa!"
"Love, we've got a problem here, I can't go back and I sure as hell can't go forward! My wheels aren't going to let me! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"
"I'll be back!"
"It's getting windy!" Thomas wailed, as Lily turned the corner, out of sight. "Ah, well. How could things get-"
As the cliff crumbled, Thomas the Tank Engine decided that he really needed to gag himself on these occasions. "BUST MY BOILER AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
Patch heard the yell and rode up on his horse, as quickly as possible. Somehow, he didn't hear Thomas's next scream, but then again, Thomas's voice was reaching pitches that only dogs could hear. So Mutt would have actually been useful for once. Every dog, apparently, had it's day.
"I'VE LEFT THE BLOODY COAL TRUCK BEHIND OH WHY DID I BOTHER COMING I WANT TO GO HOME."
Lily ran as fast as she could, wincing as she limped on her twisted ankle. The horse let out a whinny as he came to a stop, Patch gawping at the girl. She grinned, and made a gesture to let her slide on up. "Where's grandpa! I need him!"
"Jump up, where have you-"
"It's complicated, let's just get moving!" As she swung up, Lily paused and hugged Patch.
Patch froze for a moment. He tentatively hugged her back, trying hard not to blush. Girls rarely hugged him. This was a new feeling. He wondered...was this the start of a whole new world? Shining, shimmering, splendid? He wondered if he should ask Lily, when did she last let her heart decide-?
"STOP WHEELS! STOP! I COMMAND YOU WHEELS!"
That rather stopped his lyrical thinking for the moment. He pulled the reins and the horse galloped off.
As Patch and Lily rode off, Boomer revved his bike and roared after them. The horse whinnied again, this time in fear, and Patch looked back in horror to see Boomer rushing towards them. His face was aglow with the triumph of victory, but even so it was twisted into a horrible leering snarl, the type that Freddy Kruger could pull off without much difficulty. He reached forward for Lily. She lashed out with her foot, and he caught it right in the face. He growled, but was undeterred. Patch watched as his hands crackled with the lightning, this time growing blacker and more malicious looking.
It was then that something very, very lucky happened. Boomer let out a horrified yelp as Thomas rushed down the mountain, screaming blue murder, and smashed into his bike. Boomer had just managed to leap from it in time, but had grabbed hold of Thomas's cab in the process.
"THOMAS!" Lily was aghast as the blue engine, unable to stop himself on such difficult terrain, veered towards a large dip.
"WOAH! OH GOD, GUYS, IF I DON'T MAKE IT BACK, YOU WERE THE BEST FRIENDS I COULD HAVE EVER-" And with a strange whistling sound, Thomas plowed down through the dip, and through yet another portal.
"What?!" shouted Patch.
"Come on! I'll explain all when we get to grandpa! He'll know what to do...I hope!"
...
"So, where did Boomer go?" Gotch remarked at large. The Fat Director and he had been sitting awkwardly for some time now, and it occurred to Gotch that being in an organization such of this did not give on much to talk about when it came to filling the long gaps between evil plans.
"Oh...he said something about wanting to 'take care of business'. Whatever that means. He's missing a good show, though." The Fat Director looked around, his gaze stopping for a moment on Sir Topham Hatt. The latter strained, because he could have sworn that the Fat Director looked vaguely familiar-
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" Thomas promptly crashed through another portal, Boomer clinging onto the engine for dear life and looking as though he had just seen hell with his two eyes. Thomas rolled along the rails, control having been completely lost, before swerving sharply and smacking Boomer against the platform. This, finally, sent the motorcyclist flying off.
"OHHHHH THIS IS THE WORST DAY EVER!" shouted Thomas the Tank Engine as he plowed into yet another portal.
There was a pause.
"What...what just happened?" asked the Fat Director, for once totally lost for words.
"I have no idea!" shouted Boomer, as he tried to pull himself together and look intimidating. This did not work out as Sir Topham Hatt finally gave into the madness and started laughing hysterically at all the silly shit that was going on.
...
What had shut Dodge up was the fact that Truro had not keeled over as he had thought he would. Everyone stopped, even the other diesels, to stare at the horrible sight that lay before them.
For the first time they saw City of Truro's face. And they very much hoped it would be the last.
You know the typical steam engine face, don't you? Imagine then, one that has been very heavily burned, to the point where only the skull/framework of the engine was left.
"You just destroyed my mask." Truro said, matter of factly. "You shouldn't have done that."
And he charged Dodge once again.
...
Crovan's Gate was where the brunt of the fighting was now. Diesels were pouring in from every section of the Island for one reason, and for one reason only.
Because here was Edward. Old Iron, Old Reliable, the hero of the hour, fighting on brave as ever with so much grit and determination that one could be mistaken for becoming awestruck. Other engines helped too, the auxiliary engines fought bravely, as did the trucks. But even so, there was now a sense of sluggishness for the defenders.
Edward recovered from shooting at a rather vicious diesel in time to see the Works Diesel roll up, looking around in horror. "What are you doing?!" he shouted above the action. "I told you to help load up the ferry!"
The Works Diesel nodded, and quickly yanked out Toad, Oliver and Duck, who was still insisting that he was fine. Edward understood. "Of course! Get them out of here before-" He was interrupted by a rather horrible sound, as one of the bombers had dropped a type of cargo that had sent the diesel oil and petrol from the Works flying everywhere. "That's all we need! The Works is no longer safe! Duck, Oliver, you need to get out of here and find this Iron Circle of yours! We need backup, and fast!"
"I'm not leaving you lads here!"
"Duck, DON'T ARGUE!" Edward whirled forward and had his Pincher plant a rather nasty fist through the visor of one diesel, who crumpled backwards. "We're holding them off, but barely! Trucks are telling me that we've already lost Maron, Maithwaite, Thomas's branch-line and we're on the verge of losing Tidmouth all together, we can't do this alone!"
"Go, Duck!" snapped Oliver, and Duck, after a forlorn look back, puffed away, limping in great pain. "But I shall stay! I shall be good gracious to the last!" He laughed somewhat hysterically. "I've survived worse than this, eh?!"
"Mr Oliver, I insist that you get yourself to safety! Or at the very least-" Toad was interrupted by Oliver shoving him in the direction of the Work's Diesel. "MR OLIVER!" He wailed, as the diesel gently dragged him off.
"How can I help, sah!?" asked Oliver, exaggerated accent and all. Edward's grin was maniacal to say the least, but it was almost reassuring.
"Good man! Listen, the Little Western's fallen according to my sources, we can't get through to Tidmouth Hault and Crosby's not doing well either. But if you can get to Tidmouth, gather up as many trucks as you can and deal with anything over there, I'd be grateful- HAVE AT ME BEAST!" And so saying, Edward charged in the fray once more.
"Right-ho!"
As Oliver scarpered, the Narrow Gauge continued their rather poor attempts at offence, as Rusty and Peter Sam hurried back with various armaments that would hopefully cause a great deal of pain. Then Duncan hit upon a rather novel idea. He returned five minutes later with a whole line of De'Fusit's Gunpowder.
And then, well, sparks flew.
Literally, as within seconds of the first wagon being detonated, the works exploded with a great amount of show, toppling and swaying for a great deal before at last collapsing with a tremendous crash upon the fighters. Edward was lucky enough to roll out of the way, but the diesels and steamies alike weren't so lucky. Duncan looked a little sheepish, but more and more tankers were sent hurtling around the bend.
...
Douglas screeched like a bat out of hell into Vicarstown. The scene there was absolute pandemonium! The sheds had been completely detonated and wiped up, there was barely any sign that they'd ever been there. The station wasn't looking much better either, with shattered windows and the roof having completely caved in. And every engine there had been slaughtered by-
Class 40 rolled forward, a devilish smirk in his (their?) eyes. "Come on then. Let's fight, shall we?"
Douglas snarled, bared his teeth and then rushed at Bowler, the latter still smirking that damn smile. Douglas's buffers were aching for a fight-
-which they didn't get, as the Juggernaut proceeded to smash him off the rails and into unconsciousness.
"Put him with the others. I imagine that Boomer will want to take his time with this one." Marklin grinned as he retook his most common body and began to move inwards. "But leave Edward to me. That Old Iron's MINE."
...
Things weren't going much better for the other Scottish twin. Donald and Mavis had been fighting a great deal, scoring shot after shot that either killed the diesel attacking, or wounded them to the point where they were unable to fight anymore. But this didn't mean anything when the numbers were so overwhelming. Cranky helped out as best he could, even as he was in the midst of taking up more and more engines to be shipped out, but even so they were in a bad way.
Which meant it was awfully good luck when in rode the Works Diesel, rather roughly, alongside a contingency of trucks to sort them out. As the diesels were distracting by the snapping, biting, chanting, pulling and pushing trucks, Toad was hurried up by the crane, as the Works Diesel offered his rather laconic smile.
Which froze on his face as he spotted a tell-tale glow in the distance. A glow that Donald was obscuring, which meant that Donald was straight in the path of a-
With a yelp, Donald was thrown forwards, as the Works Diesel flung himself forward. "ACH! WHAT ARE YE DOING YE-"
The explosion took him completely by surprise, as did the scream of agony from the poor Works Diesel. It was the first sound that anyone could remember him making in his years of working there. The rocket launcher had sent half of him spinning, while the other half just...crumpled away. He wavered an instant, on the brink of the harbor's edge. He looked at Donald, in great pain, and gave a slight smile as if to say "It's okay."
And then he slipped under the water and he was no more.
The death of his valiant savior drove Donald into a complete frenzy the like of which has never been seen, even by Scottish standards. He would have made Mel Gibson tremble at the sight of him. But even as more and more of the diesels fell to shrieks of terror from the Caledonian's mighty guns and ramming, the Fulton Ferry began to drift away under the strange power of the Island. Cranky yelped, and swung his hook to latch onto the side of it. With a horrible wrenching sound, his head left the support beams and he barely managed to swing aboard as he moaned in pain.
"DONALD!" Mavis bellowed. "We have to go! NOW!"
Donald realized that she was right. Not only were the bombers coming back around for yet another go, but the diesels also seemed to be regrouping with surprising speed. "Ye go yer way, lassie, and I'll go mine!" So saying, he vanished into the throng of diesels, heading in the general direction towards Tidmouth, while Mavis headed towards the quarry.
...
And what a mess she would find. Bill and Ben had already been here, throwing home-made Molotov cocktails at the poor sods inside the diesel armor, (How they made said cocktails is a mystery for another time), and remains of trucks lay here in thick abundance. Mostly the enemy's, however, were dead. Some were still moving, and were being tended to by Toby.
"Come on lads!" Toby hissed under his breath. "Where are you?"
"Toby the Tram Engine."
Toby didn't stiffen, in a manner of speaking. He just became very, very still. "Ah. Do I have the dishonor of addressing Mr Splatter?"
"You're damn right you do. What the hell do you mean, dishonor?" Splatter began laughing once more.
"My guess is that Ten's put me on high priority. No one humiliates him and gets away with it, eh?" Toby turned around on the turntable to see the maroon diesel glaring at him, a half-crazed smile on his face. "You're not an idiot, are you? You give off that appearance, even to my friends, but I can see genuine intelligence hidden in there. Where's your accomplice, Mr Dodge?"
"Elsewhere. He said it was my turn to play with you."
"I bet he did. Run in the family, does it? Are all Class 8 shunters this nutty, or did you two and the Grim Reapers at the Smelters just fall from the family tree together?"
"Hehehe. You're funny. It's a pity you're going to die." Splatter advanced, but Toby remained firm. "You're not going to run, are you? I like that. You're not going to cower, like that fool BoCo did, are you? No. You're like me."
"No. You're a mass murdering psychopath trying to use a weird alien-spirit thing to bring about the end of the world. I'm a tram engine with far too much time on his buffers, anxiety attacks and a fondness for sponge cake. Nothing in common. For the record, if you insult BoCo again, I will hurt you. Badly."
"You are calm, aren't you?"
"Have to be, to work at a quarry. Or on this Island in general" Toby moved very deliberately forward, his eyes fixated upon Splatter's buffers. "I take it you've got some doodad in there to take care of me. Well, I have a weapon of my own. Let's settle this, eh? Engine to engine. Square face to square face. Let's see how like each other we really are."
Grinning, Splatter nodded. "Oh yes. That sounds-" He was cut off in the middle of his prime by Henry ramming him hard, launching him high into the air and into the distant horizon.
"You took your bloody time. Just when I was going to use my secret weapon!"
"Sorry, ran into a wee bit of trouble at the crossing. And there are so many bloody quarry's here! Are you all right?"
"Mostly. Are we safe?"
"Nowhere is safe" rasped Mavis as she entered. The fumes from the smoke had gotten to her a little. Toby rushed over and began to inspect the damage, before she waved, in a manner of speaking, him off. "No, listen, the quarry's not safe. They've got bombers out there. Bombers, Toby! I don't think that staying in this place is going to do much good."
"We get Henrietta first, and then we leave." Toby said firmly. "Everyone who can, try to get to the old tramway. That's the last place they'll look, cross your buffers!"
...
"Weak! That's what you are! Enabling these petty little tin pot prats to take our jobs!" George lashed out, almost rearing up to drop his full weight onto Butch. "God, I wish Bulgy could be here now! He'd knock some sense into you! Ah well, I'll just have to settle for sending him the pictures!" Another ram, Butch was looking pained. "He knew what had to be done! He knew that we couldn't allow the parasites of steam and diesel to take everything that we hold dear!" Butch had now been forced back against the barber shop. He hoped the Italian Barber didn't mind that his livelihood was going down the proverbial. "You will die, Butch, a slave. No one shall mourn you. Or your traitorous friends."
Terrance had vanished, with one of the Lorries in pursuit. Caroline was still fighting her darndest, but Lorry 1 had her cornered, and was now bearing down on her with vicious attacks of his own. And poor Trevor, poor, old Trevor, was still fighting as best he could, with a makeshift catapult that used his own wheel to swing bits and pieces at the eyes of Lorry 3. But the Lorry was far stronger than him.
"Parasites, are they?" Butch smirked. "And yet you have allied yourself with a diesel. An army. You are not a visionary, George. You are not a hero. You are not the savior. You are a bully. A hypocrite. And worst of all, you are a failure to your own principles."
It was very easy to piss steamrollers off. George screamed, a pure primal scream of rage, and charged. Butch dodged, and watched with a great deal of satisfaction, as George plowed into the barbershop, flipping over onto his side painfully. This time, there was no way to self-right himself.
"GET ME OUT!"
"No thanks, think I'll leave you to it." Butch glanced back towards the fighting. And then, in the form of a miracle, a familiar horn rang out.
Lorry 3, the one menacing Trevor, had just enough time to say "Oh shit!" before Bertie the Bus cleared the road and flew straight into his side. Lorry 3 spun out and tried to regain control, but to no avail.
Then he struck a downed power line. That stopped him permanently.
Have you ever smelt electrocuted lorry carcass?
It is an unpleasant smell, to say the least.
Lorry 1 was apoplectic with rage over the death of his 'bruv' and roared away from Caroline. "YOU LITTLE SOD! YOU MURDERED HIM!"
"By accident! Give up now, and-" Bertie never finished his ultimatum, as the Lorry rammed into him with full speed. Butch moved quickly, rushing up even as the Lorry forced back Trevor and Bertie. Whirling his hook, the mighty breakdown truck swung it directly into the Lorry's window.
"Give up, mate!"
"You KILLED THEM!"
"You were killing our friends!"
"They are the past!" Lorry 1 was baffled, and that bafflement led to more rage. "WHY WOULD YOU DIE FOR THEM!?"
"Because they would die for us. Come on. We won't kill you."
Lorry 1 laughed bitterly. "There is nothing left for me now." And so saying, he revved his engine, and rushed at Butch. Butch automatically tugged at the chain, which pulled straight through Lorry 1's head. The Lorry shuddered for a moment, then stopped forever more.
"I...I didn't mean to-"
"We know ya'll didn't mean to, Butch." Caroline said, quietly. "No one blames ya. Ya did what ya could."
Bertie and Trevor agreed. "But we need to move, now!" Bertie insisted.
"I can't." Caroline said sadly. "Mah engine's cut out again. Overheated. What are the odds?" She laughed, somewhat bitter, somewhat mirthful. "Fellas, ya'll best be moving on out. Ah'm not going anywhere."
"No." Butch pulled himself together. "Trevor, Bertie, find Terrance, and get back to a safe place. That way, you can meet up with the others as soon as possible. I am a rescue vehicle. I shall not abandon Caroline in this hour of need." Butch moved forward, and joined her. "Please. As a favor." He grinned and tried to sound his hammy self. "We shall fight to the END, eh, Caroline?"
Trevor hesitated a moment. So did Bertie.
"You are a very brave truck, my friend." Trevor said, seriously.
"The bravest." agreed Bertie, no hint of sarcasm.
Butch shrugged, or did the truck equivalent of one. "Someone has to try." And as they left, he waited for the diesels to find him. Which they did. Both were taken back to Shining Time, for sport, so they said.
No one minded George for the moment.
...
Lorry 2 swore until the air was blue. There was no sign of that pesky tractor on the road anymore. And yet he was sure that he had seen Terrance head that way. He glanced back. Perhaps he should head on back-
And that was when he saw the caterpillar track marks. Mud smeared across the road, and leading towards one of the open fields. And there, sitting with his face away from the road he had just turned off from, was Terrance the Tractor. Lorry 2 grinned to himself. "Nice try mate! But if you want, I'll make this quick!" And so saying, he disembarked from the road, through the open gate and began to wade across the field.
Instantly, he seemed to realize that he had a problem. The field was a muddy one, in the process of being ploughed, and his wheels dug into the earth, spinning and groaning in great pain as they sent mud flying. But at last, he reached the tractor.
"Gotcha now, mate! You're…..You're-"
His mocking one liner died quickly in his throat, as Terrance turned around. And then he realized just how damned he was, because he had the exact same reaction as any single person or vehicle who had known Terrance the Tractor in all the long years he had been on the Island, would have had.
Because Terrance wasn't smiling.
…..
Diesel 10 rolled through Maron. The station had somehow and miraculously managed to avoid a great deal of damage, despite the fact that another bomber had launched its cargo not too far from there. C. Junior was lightly, but firmly, tucked away in the cavity where his claw would have normally resided. Though he struggled and tossed, the diminutive conductor was unable to free himself.
But Ten had more pressing matters. From here he could see Gordon's Hill. He could see it silhouetted against the rapidly reddening sky. And atop it, he spotted Gordon himself.
Without a word, he moved on towards the hill.
It was interesting, he mused, how much of a fight Lady's children were putting up. He wondered if they had found her yet. There was no actual way that they could be doing this on their own, could they? After all, even before gaining a physical form, he had given them as much help as he had been willing to give. That Boomer boy, he had a great deal of raw and untapped magic. And yes, he hadn't told the boy everything, but he had certainly given Boomer enough power.
No, it was Lady. It had to be. Unless of course, his lack of faith had been rewarded, and the humans had failed to heed his warning.
Now he was at the foot of the hill. And there, atop it, watching with cold and unrestrained fury, was the NWR's number four. Besides him, the remains of D2 (Daisy's Fake) lay strewn about.
"I must admit, this is new. You steam engines are tough. And ruthless, too. That was a cruel trick we played with the doubles, wasn't it?" He spoke with no admiration or shock, just a matter of fact observation. "Of course, I don't doubt that you'll lose. Would you like to know how many have died so far?"
"You don't care, do you!?" Gordon shouted in anger.
"Care? Oh I care very much. I care about every single death, and how violent it was. See, it feeds me. All that pain, all those negative emotions, the destruction of life? It's making me more and more powerful. Soon I will no longer need this body, and I can take my ultimate form with no problem. Me and Marklin. And oh, what fun we shall have then!"
Gordon's teeth clenched. His wheels gripped the rails. Ten noticed.
"Come on then, Gordon. Let's see what the fastest and best can do."
Nothing happened for a single moment.
And then Gordon lunged forward.
Furiously whistling, his wheels moved faster than they ever had before. He thundered down the hill, face contorted in a roar of hatred. Ten moved not one inch. He waited for a moment, his claw clenched somewhat, until the very moment that Gordon rounded the corner, and then-
Gordon's roar turned to a shriek of agony as the claw scratched at his boiler. Wincing, he braked hard, and swung back onto one of the points. Ten's claw snapped and swung, seemingly wide off the mark, but always landing a blow. Gordon rammed forward, his buffers connecting with Ten's. But even this little buffering back came at a price, as the claw reached out and scratched deep into Gordon's skin.
"You know, I always imagined that Gresley's son was a better fighter than this."
Gordon growled, half in pain and half in boiling rage, as he tugged himself back. He freed himself, the slight coppery taste in his mouth telling him that Ten had clearly spilt blood. "You will not hurt anyone else!" he snarled.
"Won't I?" Ten smiled. It was a singularly unpleasant sight. "I'll go after Scotsman next-"
Ten had to give Gordon this. For an engine who was so easy to predict 98% of the time, that two percent could take you right off your guard. Gordon had lashed out with a rather nasty right hook from one of his buffers. It had somehow slipped past Ten's own buffers and landed a direct blow on his eye. Blinkering furiously, Ten's grin turned somewhat manic. "Oh you really, really shouldn't have done that."
And then he smashed into Gordon with his full weight, shoving him back up the hill.
...
Percy had made his way to an area not far from the old abandoned quarry, the one that had nearly caused him and several of the Narrow Gauge engines to lose their lives thanks to a weird episode in everyone's life where...
Ah yes, there he was.
Proud and silent, Boulder stood, gazing up at where he had used to be.
"Boulder?" Percy felt daft, but he had one hell of a plan in mind. Truth be told, had anyone else done it, it would have been stupid. But Percy's standards, it was bloody brilliant. "They say you protect the mountains, right? That you have something that needs to be guarded? Well then, I'd say that that's under threat, isn't it?"
Boulder was silent.
"They're coming. All of them, the monsters that want to take away everything that we love and hold dear. Now I don't know about you, because I'm not a boulder...obviously, but I want to stop them before they take away the important things. So, if you care at all...I think it's time that you used those weird powers of yours to our advantage."
There was a pause. And then Boulder slowly rolled forward, off the mountain. He landed with such a clang that Percy almost tried to shush the sentient boulder. Almost being the key word, as he realized that it was really not worth it.
"All right...now...this is where it gets silly!"
...
Meanwhile, at the grotto, Carlin and Mr Conductor looked at each other a bit awkwardly.
"So...what are you doing over the holiday, then?"
"I was thinking maybe a f**king yacht. You know, go sailing around the Caribbean for a bit. Or maybe go back to driving trains. If there are any trains left at this point, which is becoming less and less likely. You?"
"Water the flowers a bit."
"...You have a very boring life, don't you?"
"God yes."
At which point, a tumbleweed popped up. There was a sharp whistle, and it transformed into a rather bedraggled looking man dressed in similar garb to the other two Conductors. He pulled out a pair of battered looking glasses and wiped them down. He placed them on his nose and gave a jaunty little wave.
"Son of a-STARR?!" Carlin stared, agape. "WHAT THE F**K ARE YOU DOING WEARING THOSE?!"
"Oh, do you like it? Figured I'd try out this new American accent for dodging all the babes!" Starr smirked and waved over to Mr Conductor, who was sitting down and questioning many of his life choices. "Scared the crap out of Thomas and Percy though! Ha! So...I miss anything?"
REVIEW TIME.
Duckfan13: For the record, while your opinions and critiques are appreciated and understandable, I am not forcing you to read this. If you want to leave, then leave. This is not going to be everyone's cup of tea. I just wanted to write something entertaining, that's all.
MattPrice01: Thanks! It's hopefully not too dark, as that was not my intention at all.
Game-Watch: Just a bit, yeah.
Kamen Rider Necrom: Darker was a bit of a exaggeration, I admit. Hope this is up to your standards.
Bronze Shield: Hopefully it was good!
trestonfortson2016: Somewhat. Ideas like there being a big battle at the end, and Marklin being part of the thing that makes Diesel 10 Diesel 10 were planned out, but the bigger role for Carlin and his relationship with the whole affair did develop. The story isn't how I envisioned it when I started the plot, if I'm honest.
Reality Rejection Service: Hey, Patch has had a weird day. Besides, engines can leave any time they want. And yeah, Lily having something of a personality is good to write.
Radical sandwiches: Glad you enjoyed, and again, I went a little bit overboard when describing the darkness aspect of it. It's not THAT bad...I hope.
TrainManiac: Thanks! Wood is easier to break than metal, however, and thus it's harder to keep the Spiteful Brakevan's face from falling off. True story. And as for the Fat Director...well...
Reid007: Yeah, that's pretty much how it was in my head too.
AaronCottrell97: I've essentially decided to embrace the madness! LOGIC, what is that?!
UGX7: Yeah, the tumbleweed has no purpose in the movie. I've given it one here, but it's pretty random. Thanks for the error! Duck was essentially here just for the meeting, he was still being healed until the attack started.
-So, first off, let me apologize right away. For the record, when I meant that this part was going to be a bit dark, I did not mean that it was going to be completely devoid of any humor at all. It was just that I was trying to make it seem a bit more epic, primarily because the actual climax of the movie is somewhat boring in comparison. The only engine that was introduced in the TV series proper that we see after Thomas enters the Magic Railroad is James, and he's there for no real reason other than to make it a bit more action packed. What I'm basically going to explain, aside from my decisions, is why I've decided to have this battle.
-But first, alternate reality check! So, Brighton Thomas is the Adventure Begins universe. Essentially, if it comes to a point where I can take a look at abridging it, it's going to be it's own separate universe. But wait, I hear you cry! What about Glynn? I know I say this a lot, but I do actually have a plan regarding that. There's also a universe where it's Thomas meets I, Robot or Astroboy or whatever, where the engines are completely mechanical and living alongside humanity. There's the Mirror Universe, where Thomas and Friends are evil. Oh, and the last universe, which isn't going to play any part or be explored, it was there for a joke, really. On the last trip through the Magic Railroad, we'll also see one or two more that I'll bring up in due course.
-There were a lot of plans for the reason as to why Truro doesn't have a face. Originally I was just going to sidestep the whole issue, then I considered having it be because of a disease that certain engines/vehicles suffered from (A reason why, say, Butch and Henrietta don't have faces for quite a while), before coming up with the idea of it hiding the scars from the same attack that gave St Eustace his name.
-The Works Diesel's death is mainly to set up the status quo for most of the seasons Post-Railroad up until Hero of the Rails, where the Works isn't really defined as one major place like it used to be. With his death I was able to start setting up for the construction of the Sodor Steamworks. That and I figured that having Donald's life being saved by a diesel and giving him pause for thought was nice character development.
-I swear to all that is holy...all right, you know how sometimes you get an idea that is just...so good that you can't help but be gleeful when you finally get to put it into action? This. This right here. That one line about Terrance that's all in bold has been something that has been planned from the VERY first time I wrote for him. Because that's how serious the situation is. I really hope you guys enjoy that, cause it was amazing to write.
-It was great fun giving many of the characters little moments of triumph throughout the battle. Probably my favorite has to be Toby's, really liked giving him something to do, especially considering that I haven't done that much with him up until now.
-Bulstrode is dead. There was no reason, just that I thought it would be funny to do, to be honest.
-Oh, and with regards to the Horrid Lorries, I also wanted to get rid of them primarily because I wanted to give some of the characters who perhaps didn't get as much spotlight in the series a chance to shine (Butch, Caroline, Trevor and Terrance), and considering that the Lorries never return in the series proper, they made good cannon-fodder to show how serious the battle was.
-Ringo was the Tumbleweed! Yeah, this one was just because I wanted to have a bit of levity, plus an explanation for the Tumbleweed that wasn't yet another that was already stretching the realm of plausibility. Much.