Part 8: Going Belly Up.
"Ah, there you are!" Percy grinned as he pulled Thumper out. "This next part is going to be pretty wild, so just...try and follow, okay?"
Thumper, of course, said and did nothing.
...
"Donald!"
"Oliver! I thought ye were on yon ship!"
"What, and miss out on getting some revenge for all those GWR chaps?! Not half! Come on mate, we've got to handle some stuff up at Tidmouth."
As the two engines rushed through, they passed Tidmouth Harbor. Both shuddered at the sight of the once proud dock now mutilated beyond recognition. Part of it had been completely atomized, part of it was hanging limply over the side like a swaying criminal caught in a noose.
But still they hurried on, until at last, they reached the station, and not too far ahead of them, the sheds. It was pandemonium. Trucks were flying left and right, both theirs and the opposition, and some unlucky coaches were in the middle. Some had managed to take down one or two diesels via lashing their couplings and braking hard, but they had been smashed to smithereens by more powerful ones almost as quickly.
Metal, it turned out, beat wood every time.
"Thundering hell!" Donald looked from left to right. "What do we do now?!"
"RETREAT!" bellowed Oliver at the top of his lungs. "RETREAT! RETREAT! BACK TO CROVAN'S GATE!"
The trucks needed no telling twice. U.L.P and Fred were there as well, and they soon had their lot running back to Crovan's Gate and elsewhere. The two engines went at it, smashing through the trucks that stood against them. Shunting diesels raced forward, and even as their buffers clashed, Oliver could tell that these were the weaker ones, sent off as a diversion.
When they had been disposed of, knocked to the side where they could hurt no one any longer, Oliver looked around. The damage had been done to the station. One false move, and it would be brought down-
"Oliver, look out!"
The Scottish engine moved forward in a blur, rushing onto the points to protect Oliver from a truck's kamikaze attack. But this was no ordinary truck.
"KILL YOU! KILL YOU!" screamed S.C. Ruffey, who was so enraged that speech had failed him. His frames were shaking and wracked with roar filled screams, as he lashed out. He seemed to be a lot tougher than most of the trucks, Donald's blows usually brought one down in two, and when lucky, occasionally one. At last, Donald managed to get enough momentum to force the private wagon backwards.
He bounced and skidded several times, before at last, ending up on his back, staring up at the smoke filled sky. He laughed a rather croaky, desperate laugh. "Should have known you'd be the ones to take us true trucks down. You lot are all the same."
"You attacked us."
"You ruined my life!"
"And now, I'm going to make it worse, if you can believe it." Oliver rolled forward. S.C Ruffey had landed at an angle, the section of truck containing his landing right on the edge of the turntable.
"Oliver?!"
"What are you doing?"
"Trucks are dying all around, blood is flowing freely
Here's a fool who though himself wise, and demeanor steely.
But now he's really figured out, that's he's no bloody toughie.
His friends are gone, and he is too-"
There was a rather horrific crunching noise as Oliver crushed S.C Ruffey 's face beneath his wheels. He took a deep breath as the truck shuddered and went still, and then finished his song.
"-Pop goes S.C Ruffey!"
...
Dodge had, for the moment, been stricken dumb at the sight of Truro's face. His...real face. The shattered remains of the mask that Truro had worn for so long (Though mask was a bit of a understatement, more an entire life support system really) lay scattered on the floor.
Truro, meanwhile, was giving Dodge the biggest beatdown of his life. One would not think such a massive engine would be as nimble as the smaller diesel. But he was. He seemed almost to be enjoying himself, cutting away the veneer of calm and cool and just enjoying beating the hell out of the snot nosed little diesel. "DO YOU REALIZE-" He roared "-WHAT A SHIT WEEK THIS HAS BEEN!?"
"Urk." said Dodge.
"YEAH! DAMN RIGHT!" Truro seemed to have the most creative way of using his buffers like Muhammad Ali used his fists. With every whallop, Dodge was forced back, until with one ferocious roar, the steam engine rammed Dodge through the wall and out of the building all together.
It will not surprise you to learn that the words "RETREAT!" were bellowed quite a bit following that. The Iron Circle cheered, but not too much. They had to move out now, or risk another attack.
"So...want to tell me what happened to your face?"
"Oh Scotsman, me and Eustace had trouble during the war. He got his nickname because he was once set on fire and kept going. I got set on fire too, just in a more sensitive area. The mask was intimidating, practical and kept me living. Enough for you?"
"How many more secrets are you hiding from us?"
Truro laughed uncomfortably at the joke. At least, he hoped it was a joke.
Through the silence came the sound of a garbled translation. "Can...hear me? ...Scotsman...Sodor...attack! Shining Time...is key...losing sig-" And like that, Duck's message cut out as soon as it had begun.
"Shining Time? Oh shit. How do we get over there?"
Scotsman paused. "Well, I have one idea. It's incredibly dangerous mind."
"BRING IT ON!" slurred Derek.
"Why is he here?"
"I don't know, some rambling nonsense about something or other." Truro frowned. "Something about how those seven idiots from the Sudrian show are going to be the key to killing the Malevolence...accidentally, apparently."
"Ha! As if that would ever happen!
...
James rushed through Lower Suddery and into the junction. He looked left and right, and hesitated. On the one hand, the China Clay Pits were easy to get lost in, which meant that if he did have anyone on his tail, he could easily lose them-
As he debated this, he noticed that a large amount of laughter was coming from the quarry. And also a lot of smoke.
Clearly, someone was burning the 'clay' and getting all the invaders really, really, really high. It was an impressive tactic and one that reeked of Bill and Ben's involvement.
Okay, not the quarry then. He wanted to stay as sober as he could, for once in his life. And at that moment, James saw something that made his blood run cold. Gordon and Diesel 10, fighting. Well, fighting was a rather generous description. It was a beat down, and Gordon was on the wrong side of it. Chunks of flesh appeared to have been snapped from his face, his boiler was dented, at several parts his entire body seemed to be slightly compacted together, his whistle had been torn apart and worst of all, he was barely doing any real fighting back.
James rushed towards Gordon's Hill at full speed. There was still time to save his friend!
...
"Bloody hell, where are they coming from!?"
Toby and his group were moving through as fast as possible. It was hard, too, but for the most part, the diesels and trucks had bigger things to worry about, like dodging the bombs. Henrietta was surprisingly safe, for the moment, though she still let out a little gasp of shock every so often. Henry was looking badly dented. Mavis was weary from the battle, and had to stop every few minutes so that she didn't pass out from all the pain.
"We need to get to somewhere safe for her sake!" Henrietta urged.
"I know, m'dear, but where? There's nowhere-" Toby paused, and thought for a second. It was as if a lightbulb had gone off over his head. "By gum, that's it!"
"What's it?"
"Listen, if we get to Toryreck, there's a few sheds there on a siding out of the way! They'll never look for us there!" Toby turned to Mavis. "Mavis? Mavis, listen to me. Take Henrietta there, and Henry too, I've got to get Edward to see if there's anyone else I need to get-"
"But Toby!"
"Henrietta, I love you. All right. I said it." Toby drew in a deep breath. "Oh balls, here we go!" And off he trundled, going as fast he could. Henry hesitated for a moment, then gave a brief little incline to indicate that the two of them should move to the sheds and hurried after him.
"Bloody sexist!" laughed Mavis through her pain. Henrietta laughed more to be comforting than anything else.
The diesel and coach vanished just in time, as the Juggernaut roared past them. He stopped, sniffed the air, and then followed the leaking patch of fluid that lead onto the siding where Henry and Toby had headed off to.
The two engines were aware, horribly aware, that this was the long way around, and took them through Boulder's old quarry, but it was a risk worth taking in their opinion. No diesels would even think to come along this path. At least, so they thought.
They were wrong. Percy was standing there, in the middle of the track, surrounded on every single piece of rail by diesels. He looked calm, despite this, and even seemed to be smiling.
"What's he doing?!"
Percy looked up, and saw Toby. He smiled, trying and failing to give off the impression that he knew what it was that he was doing.
And in that terrible moment, Toby realized what it was Percy was doing, for now he saw in the corner the machine known as Thumper attacking the mountainside with great force and anger. And then he saw Boulder mysteriously missing from his perch.
The quarry began to shake. Rocks from the nearby mountain began to tumble and bounce. The diesels seemed to recognize that they had made a mistake, and some were trying to back away, but they were tripping and bashing into their own sides. And Percy stayed calm during all of this, even as the slabs and the chunks of rock fell from the mountain and smashed into his body.
And then Boulder, it's face furious and filled with righteous fury at the thought of intruders in the- HIS - quarry, rolled down and seemed to explode outwards-
That was all they could see for some time. The dust was thick and bilious. And Toby saw only that last image of the green caterpillar with red stripes standing firm as best he could.
At last, the dust cleared.
Toby looked frantically. Henry, pale and horrified, was tugging at his couplings but Toby had to look-
"HE'S ALIVE! HE'S ALIVE!"
Rushing forward, Toby frantically smashed as much of the rock away as possible, as much of the remains of Boulder as could be removed via cowcatches. Both that and the sideplates were being buckled and twisted something fierce. And at last, with a great effort, Toby latched the coupling onto the prone, inert form of Percy. He was badly injured, very badly, but from what he could see, Toby could tell the little engine was still breathing.
"Come on! Back to the station!"
The Juggernaut hesitated for a moment. Then he turned and headed off in another direction.
It was time to end this farce.
…
Burnett ran his finger along the blueprints once again. He looked, wearily, for anything he might have missed. Because he had done this so many times over the years, he was sure that he could recite the entire thing off by heart with his eyes closed.
Perhaps it was time to-
"Grandpa!"
Burnett whirled around, gasping. For a brief moment, Lily had sounded so much like…
"You're okay!" he croaked out. "Where the hell were you!? I- We were-" Words failed him for a moment. He took a deep breath and started again. "You're safe, I'm so glad to see you!" He was on the verge of choking up all together.
"Grandpa, I've been to the Island of Sodor!"
Burnett's mind briefly refused to work, as a result of which he stared blankly at his grand-daughter for a full minute before remembering his tongue worked. "Urgha- WHAT?!"
"Island of talking trains!? Really loud and foul mouthed ones! They say you might have been there!" Lily barely paused for breath, as Patch began to wonder if he hadn't aggravated an unknown concussion of Lily's while riding on the horse. "The Conductors are in danger, and I had to leave Thomas behind!"
Burnett stared. He swallowed. He tried to speak.
"Please help me, they're all in danger! They need-!" Lily turned, and jumped in the air. "How did you get a TRAIN UP THE MOUNTAIN!?"
"I'd like to help, Lily. Matter of fact, I'd love to. But…. I don't know how. I've tried everything. Everything that I can think of."
"But this is her! The lost engine from long ago that everyone won't shut up about!" Lily grinned. "Come on! Now we can go back to the Island, bring Mr Conductor and Junior home, save everyone! What's….what's wrong?"
"I can't make her steam, Lily. Me and Tasha went all over the world trying to get every variety of coal we could. And when she…. when it was just me, I tried every coal in this valley. Nothing's worked for Lady."
"Is…that her name?"
"Yeah." Burnett looked unsteadily at Lady. "That's her."
"Coal? Special coal from the Island of Sodor!? You haven't tried that! Patch, up the mountain, where you found me, there's a coal truck filled to the brim! Could you get it for me?"
Patch hesitated. On the one hand, this was insane. He was clearly insane, and was therefore talking to figments of his imagination. There had been nothing wrong with cleaning the sign, nothing wrong whatsoever. Because talking trains, end of the world situations, this wasn't what he was supposed to be doing with his life! This was nuts!
On the other hand, if that was the case, Lily was just about the nicest figment of his imagination he'd met.
"Course I will!"
...
Is this what dying feels like?
Gordon was pretty sure that his safety valve was going to burst. He was pretty sure that his heart, or what passed for it, was beating far harder and far faster than it had any earthly right to. He was pretty sure that he was nearly choking on his own blood.
He was pretty sure that this had been a mistake.
"Gordon Gresley." Diesel 10 laughed, cruelly. "How pathetic. How very, very pathetic. i wonder, when I find the others, will they be as easy to take down?" His claw wrapped around Gordon's buffers. "What were their names? Oh yes. Bittern'll be the first to go." He began to squeeze. "And then Nigel, rather painfully, I reckon." Tighter now, so tight that Gordon was beginning to lose feeling in his buffers "Eisenhower'll go out with a bang, he'll be something approaching a challenge." Was it Gordon's imagination or was Ten beginning to pull at the buffers?
"Course, then there'll be Union and Dominion, as I used to call them, and they'll die like the bugs they are. Screaming."
He tugged harder. Gordon could hear the sound of every single piece of metal linking his buffer beam to the rest of him straining.
"Mallard's speed is impressive, especially considering how little I got chance to see her do it. But that too will be rather easy to take down. I took you, didn't I? And it'll only be marginally harder. And then... ah, Scotsman. He'll be the last to die, and after I have dumped the carcass of every last Gresley locomotive in front of him, then I'll be merciful."
His voice rose to a fever pitch.
"AND END IT!"
Gordon roared in agony as his buffers, twisted and broken, snapped free of the buffer beam and smashed to the ground.
"You've just given me a rather nice power boost. Thank you for that. Now, for the finishing blow-" Ten lurched forward, as if banged. Which he had been.
"LEAVE HIM ALONE!"
Ten smiled. "The errant James. What a bad time to grow a spine." He looked back, and dealt a final, crippling blow to the section where Gordon's buffers had used to be, shaking his chassis to the core, before rushing back down towards the red engine.
Gordon wheezed. He couldn't move. He couldn't think.
All he could do was wait and hope...for something.
Before passing out, he could think only one thing.
I am... sorry.
James backed up, rushing through along the line as best he could. Trying to drive backwards was far harder without a driver and fireman giving him assistance, but the only thing he could think of was to get Diesel 10 away from anywhere with more people to get hurt. So he headed towards Killdane, one of the areas that had been very easily abandoned in the first round of bombs.
Ten laughed. The hunt was on! And as they entered the area, James was somewhat horrified to realize that he was heading towards the Sodor Ironworks. The points had been set to where Vicarstown and Killdane intersected. "OH BLOODY HELL! THIS IS THE WORST POSSIBLE THING."
"Sorry cuz!" Junior forced his way up. "I'll be whatever, responsible, reliable, really useful! I WILL BE! I WILL BE! OH THIS IS NOT HOW I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE!"
James let out a scream as he came to a sudden stop. Ten also stopped sharply, knocking Junior off of him and onto James's boiler.
"James!"
"Oh god, it's you! The bloody scot!" James growled. "Of all the people to die with, it had to be BLOODY you, didn't it?!"
"Oh what did I do ta you!?"
"Writing Wide Load on my tender was NOT a clever move, mate!"
"Ah, how about we let bygones be bygones, eh?" Junior reached into his pocket and pulled out his whistle, and blew on it.
Nothing.
"Oh. Terrific!"
"So, you've lost your sparkle too, have you?" Diesel 10 laughed. "You and Twinkletoes are more alike than I'd have ever thought. Stupid to the core, with faces that only mothers could tolerate and with those stupid, kid-like attitudes that you think are endearing, bu really not!"
"It's empty!"
"OH, NO SHIT!"
"Bye bye. Here we go!" Ten advanced forwards. James backed up slowly, until he hit the buffers. Glancing back, he tried not to gag as he saw the very long, sheer drop behind him into a smelting vat.
"WHATAREWEGOINGTODO?"
"Might be something I can do!" Junior reached into his pocket. "Sorry, Lily, I'll find ye some more! I promise! If I'm going to be any help at all, it's not or never! Here goes nothing!" And as he sprinkled the gold dust he had kept for Lily on his whistle, he took a deep breath.
The buffers buckled and snapped. James looked around in a blind panic.
"Ready?!"
"NO! WE'RE NOT! NOW JUNIOR!" Please let this work, he prayed.
And Junior let out a blast on his whistle the likes of which has never been heard before.
"NOW WE ARE!" crowed James as he vanished from sight.
"What?!" Ten growled, but then chuckled. "Oh, well played good engine! I'll enjoy killing you!"
...
"Edward!"
Edward shot the attacking diesel in the head before turning to Skarloey. The little engine looked like he had been through hell, which he probably had been. They had run out of gunpowder wagons long ago, and as such, the Narrow Gauge engines had little to do now, but try and fight as best they could.
Crovan's Gate was in flames. The petrol had somehow not been ignited during all the fighting, much to everyone's shock and immense relief. But even so, it was only a matter of time before the entire place was lit up like a rowdy Fourth of July party!
"BOYO! We've got to get out of here!" Skarloey panted. "We need...we need-"
"We can't give up!"
"Edward!"
"I won't let them take the Island!"
"EDWARD!"
"This is NOT OVER!"
"WE'VE LOST!"
Edward paused, and looked at Old Faithful. He looked pale, and was shaking quite violently. Then he looked at the remains of the platform, and then where the Works had once stood, and then to the terrified looking engines in the sheds. He closed his eyes…and nodded but once.
"Get them out of here, Skarloey. Run. Get as far as you can. I don't care what you do, as long as you are not here."
"You're coming too?!"
"I have to stay and get as many out as I can, mate."
"Boyo, that's crazy!"
"You're talking to a Sudrian, remember? Sanity isn't our strong point."
"Edward-"
"Ah, get off with you." Edward smiled, somewhat sadly but with just enough grim determination mixed in for Skarloey not to lose any more hope than was needed. "I'll see you soon, Drunkloey. Try and get as much word as you can to other railways! Maybe they can send reinforcements, or something. That would be really neat, wouldn't it?"
"Crumbs! Good luck!" Skarloey hurried back, the lull in the fighting wasn't going to last forever. "Lads! Come on! We need to get out of here!"
"What about Edward?!"
"He's….coming." Of all the engines, only Rusty caught Skarloey's hesitation. The little diesel looked firmly at Skarloey, who shook his head slightly. "Now come on! All of you! No back chat!"
"Do we take anything?!"
"No, we just GO!" Skarloey snapped.
"But brother, Vicarstown is under siege, there's no way we can all get of out of here un-noticed!" Rheneas argued, having slipped into pious mode. Rusty cleared their throat.
"There is another way that I know out of here. It's an old way, and I hope that the tracks are still workable, but…it leads to the Bluebell Line, we'll be safe there. And there'll be people, so-"
"So we can get help!" Duncan grinned. "Not bad, Rusty!"
"Was that a compliment? Oh god, we're really in shit now!"
"Ach, shut yer weeshing, ye smelly old diesel!"
"That's more like it! Insults are good, keep on doing that! Knew there was a reason we kept you, Duncan!" As the plane circled overhead for another attack, the little engines began to move out. Skarloey paused, and looked at the sheds one last time. He tried to memorize every single detail that he could. The sheds, the yards, the lines, the water tower…all of it. He stared and committed it to memory, to be remembered on cold days that offered little but the chance to revisit the olden days in his mind.
"All right, lads!" he sniffed, choking back the tears. "Onwards!"
If you were to ask any of the engines what Skarloey's bravest moment was, it would be this. Turning his back on his home for so long, aware that it was about to be completely destroyed, and soldiering on despite this.
Rusty, Duncan and Rheneas started off after Skarloey. But they hadn't gone far when the former stopped dead in their tracks and looked back.
Duke wasn't moving from his shed, and his two former Mid-Sodor Engine friends were trying in vain to get him to move. Rusty muttered that the other three should really go on ahead, and rushed back.
"Please! Come on Granpuff, we need you to get moving!"
"Move?! When I was your age, youngster, I never moved an inch unless his grace came to me personally and told me-"
"Old man, move!" snarled Sir Handel, who was in an understandably foul mood. "We don't have time for this!"
"Don't you dare talk to me like that, Falcon!"
"That's it!" Sir Handel turned to Peter Sam. "You can waste your time with him if you want, but I want to live!"
"Sir Handel, wait!"
"No! Sod it all, Stuart, we need to get going! Now! Duke wants to stay, he can stay!" Sir Handel looked around for support. He got none. Peter Sam was staring at him, wide eyed, as if for the first time seeing Sir Handel in all his...nastiness. Rusty's heart went out to the poor little engine.
"You can't. Please...please don't." Peter Sam sounded so scared, and for a moment Sir Handel wavered.
The next bomb landed in the yard. Unfortunate trucks screeched out a dying scream as they were atomized or shattered upon impact. As the others tried to regain their hearing, Peter Sam looked around. Sir Handel had vanished.
"Sir Handel! Sir Han- FALCON! FALCON!"
But Falcon had lost it completely. Without even looking back, he had taken off after the others, and not even the pleading cries of Peter Sam could bring him back. Fear had got the best of him. Peter Sam turned back, completely at a loss.
Rusty looked from left to right before looking at Duke and tried to sound relaxed. "Listen to me! Duke? Your grace wants to see you, right away! It's urgent!"
Duke stared at Rusty for a moment, trying to comprehend...anything. Then, with a massive start, he shook his head. "Stuart? What's….what's going on?"
He was having a rare lucid moment. Peter Sam laughed, almost hysterically. "Duke, we're under attack! We've got to get out of here, all three of us, together, or else-"
"Stuart, I'm stuck." Peter Sam looked behind Duke, and noticed that his wheels were still suspended above the track. One last gunpowder wagon was left besides him. "Stuart, listen to me-"
"No! I won't lose you again! We'll figure something out, granpuff, don't worry!"
"You have to leave me here!"
"No!"
"Listen to me, please. My time should have come a long time ago. I got lucky, Stuart, and got to spend five more years with you and Falcon. I...can't remember some of it, but I'm sure that whatever it was, we had the best of times." Duke grimaced as the sound of the plane flying over echoed. "But I'll not last long on the run, and I won't last long even if we find a safe place."
"But...But you're the only one I've got left! I can't lose you!"
"You won't." Duke smiled, a cheerful smile that seemed at odds with the surroundings. "I'll always be with you, Stuart. This isn't the end, all right, this isn't the end. Rusty, I want you to promise that you'll take care of this one! He's special!"
"You have my word." Rusty coupled up to the distraught Peter Sam, who could hardly see through his tears.
"Granpuff, please! Please, we'll find another way!"
"Goodbye, old friend. Until the next time."
And as Rusty oiled away, pulling a howling and shaking Peter Sam towards the general direction of the Bluebell line, Duke closed his eyes for the final time. The diesels surrounded him, and laughed. "How valiant of you! Now, surrender, you old coot!"
"Surrender?" Duke chuckled one last time. "Oh no."
His fire sparked suddenly, and one of the embers fell upon the leaking gunpowder wagon.
"That would never suit his grace."
"ABORT! ABO-"
And that was that.
A second later, the final bomb dropped, and the two explosions alike made sure that the sheds were buried under rubble and debris and fire. You wouldn't have known a shed was there, let alone a little engine lying there, peaceful and fully intact even in the muck and dirt.
Edward looked around him. It was almost over now. The petrol was catching fire, and he knew it was time to go. Wearily, he began to move forward with great slowness. The adrenaline was beginning to get to his head a little. As he left the station, he let out an all mighty groan at the sight of destruction all around him. There it went. All of it, all that beautiful history, all those good memories...
All gone up in smoke.
...
The remainder of the Narrow Gauge engines were halfway along the track that ran around the cliff when it happened.
The explosion could be heard all the way on the Mainland, where the Flying Scotsman and the City of Truro stared at each other, open mouthed, and then scrambled into action. Duck's message had finally gotten through. A full alert was echoed across every line in the country, in every shed, at every preserved museum. The last safe place had fallen. And at last, it was time for action.
But to the engines trying their damnedest to get away, all that concerned them was the incredible heat from the fireball that had come from behind them. No one looked back. No one wanted to. More importantly, they couldn't afford to. The explosion had shaken the mountains something fierce, and slowly, pieces of rock began to fall down. Small at first, but every engine knew that it was more than likely that this was just a precursor of the far bigger problems they would be experiencing soon.
Skarloey lead the way, pushing through as fast as he could. Behind him came Duncan, who was itching for a fight even now. Then Rheneas, who was remaining remarkably silent for once in his life. Finally, bringing up the rear, were a few trucks that had been abandoned by the rest.
They were about three quarters of the way there when the trucks saw something that made even their cold hearts tremble in terror.
"TANKS!"
"You're welcome!"
"NO, I MEAN! ACTUAL. REAL. LIFE. TANKS. BEHIND US."
There was a second where the three engines in front slowed down, glanced back, stared in horror and then sped up substantially. The tank itself was moving at an almost glacial pace. But if any of them had felt cocky, that was soon changed in one, brutal second.
Sure enough, the rocky face of the mountain was beginning to shake apart from the constant attacks. Even as they moved, larger and larger pieces of stone plummeted down, bouncing off the boilers and into the ravine below.
"Ye gotta give Fatty a talking too once this is over!"
"You, er, think this will end with us winning." Rheneas remarked. "That's a rather large error in your plan, right there."
And then it happened. The tank raised it's gun, and fired.
For a moment, no one was able to hear anything save for the fact that their 'ears' were ringing like a mad chorus of Jingle Bells. It wasn't until a few minutes later that they worked out that the trucks had been completely and utterly smashed to bits in the chaos as a massive section of the mountain was blasted up and then back down again with great force.
It wasn't until later that they could fully put together the terrified scream of the last truck as the tank rolled closer to him, now completely trapped between fire and frying pan.
But when the second shot rang out, and what remained of the truck tumbled into the craggy ravine below, they knew that things were the grimmest that they had ever been on the Island of Sodor.
No one made a smart quip. They just moved on as fast as they could.
...
Peter Sam was inconsolable. He was sobbing softer now, but it was still no better than his wails that echoed across the entire length and breadth of the Island. Rusty wanted desperately to be able to comfort him, but they needed to get out of here.
At last, they reached the line connecting to the Bluebell Railway. Peter Sam sniffled and-
"Hello, little one."
Rusty looked around. The voice didn't seem to belong to anyone.
"You will not see me, little one. Do not fear though. I am on your side. You just have to give me a moment-"
There was a split second where Rusty thought that they were going insane, and then with a strange sound like a deep whistle, something appeared in front of him. A portal, swirling with bluish light.
"Forward, friend. Forward. They need help."
Rusty hesitated, and then figured out that wherever this portal was going to take the two of them, it couldn't be worse than where they were now. The little diesel started forward, but suddenly, Stuart howled in agony, a bullet piercing through his cab and smacking his safety valve. The steam hissed horribly, Peter Sam's face twisting and contorting in great pain.
And the portal was pulling Rusty through, not giving the little diesel a chance to reach out and take hold of Peter Sam, save him, anything.
"PETER SA-"
And then Rusty was gone.
Peter Sam offered little resistance when the diesels captured him and pulled him away to join the other prisoners.
...
As they ran, Donald and Oliver were aware of the complete chaos all around them. The Suddery Junction had been ravaged, parts of the track actually ripped out of the ground, along with massive chunks of the Earth. Crock's Scrap Yard looked as though a tornado had rampaged through it, sending scrap flying all over the place like some sort of bizarre sacrificial ritual.
Impressively, Suddery Castle appeared to be better off now than it had been before. A new hillock had raised it above the fighting somewhat, and looters from the Other Railway were already running from the ruins carrying what they could. Donald grit his teeth, and ignored them, leading Oliver over the viaduct.
Miraculously, this too was still in working order. There were a few lumps knocked out of it, but for the most part, it remained intact. There, the two engines stopped temporarily to catch their breath.
"I'm….sorry I did that now. I just…. just wanted to show that I was done with the trucks and their bloody odd morality."
"Ach, ye are asking the wrong engine for forgiveness. I wouldnae have done any different in yer place. Yon Scruffy had it coming." Donald looked out across the river. "My god. Look at what they've done."
"I'm sure Douglas is fine. He's a tough one, your brother." Oliver said, trying to sound encouraging. It didn't quite work, but Donald shot him a grateful look nonetheless.
"Can ye hear that?"
"You'll have to be a little more specific than that, I'm afraid."
"Thundering sound. Sounds like Gordon, if Gordon was-"Donald looked back. "Oh criminy, RUN!"
Oliver didn't ask questions; he just did as Donald said. "What is it?!" he panted as they crossed the viaduct.
"It's a TANK!"
"OH BLOODY HELL! OF COURSE IT BLOODY IS!" wailed Oliver. The tank fired a shot that made the entire area shudder (Or possibly that was Oliver trying not to throw up) and for one horrible moment, Oliver thought he had been hit. For suddenly he was lying on the ground, face buried in the earth.
He hadn't. What had happened was that the hapless engine had entered Crosby at the worst possible time. George had crushed the line beneath his feet during the battle, and thus Oliver had come a cropper off the rails.
Donald looked at his friend with great distress. Behind him, advancing at an admittedly slow rate but advancing nonetheless, a tank. And in front of him... The Juggernaut. The great mastodon stood there, immobile, but very clearly raring to go.
Donald would give him a fight if he wanted one. He lunged at the armored engine, sense once again being outweighed by the desire to fight. The Juggernaut shot like it had been fired out of a cannon at great speed and smashed Donald straight away with raw strength and power.
For a moment, the Caledonian thought that he had become a bird temporarily, so quickly did he fly off the rails. He whizzed around and around like a demented tilt-a-whirl, until at last he smashed through Crosby.
The station crumpled on top of him. Donald was out of it. He looked up, wearily, and had just enough peace of mind to spit in the Juggernaut's face before he collapsed.
Juggernaut looked for a moment, and then moved on.
Bloody Scottish, the engine inside thought. He had never liked them.
…
"AAARGH YE FILTHY BASTARDS! COME AND HAVE A GO IF YE THINK YE'RE HARD ENOUGH!"
Duncan was the next to be taken. The Scot was dragged, cursing and screaming out obscenities that would make a sailor blush, by narrow gauge diesels, all of whom bore blank and horrifying faces that were unreadable. As he was dragged back towards where the rest of the prisoners were being held, they advanced upon the two old engines.
"Rheneas, what now!?"
"I don't know, boyo! Looks like this is it! Sorry for everything."
Skarloey was about to respond, when he paused, and noticed another of the portals behind him. Nothing was coming through it. Which meant that...perhaps, just perhaps, salvation was at hand.
"Rheneas. I want you to know something. And if you ever try and make me repeat it, boyo, I will shove you in that bloody lake!"
"Yeah?"
"You're a good brother."
"What-"
With a single hard shove, Skarloey rammed his brother through the portal. He had just enough time to see Rheneas's shocked expression, just about to protest, and then he was gone.
Old Faithful sighed, and nodded to his captors. "Come on then. I surrender." He grinned. "Or are you scared of Old Drunkloey?" He laughed somewhat bitterly as they dragged him off. He wondered if they had beer where they were taking him.
…
Edward was barely aware of anything anymore. He just had one idea in his mind, to keep moving, because if he kept moving, then that meant that he was still alive, despite the fact that everything else told him that quite logically, he shouldn't be.
Things like the fact that he had taken several shots to the side that would have killed a lesser engine.
Like the fact that many of this friends were either captured, dead…. or worse.
Like the fact that his home was burning around him.
Almost by accident (Screw it, no almost about it) he found himself in the China Clay Pits. He looked around, dully aware that there should be some activity, any activity. He had told Bill and Ben to take care of this position. Where were the manically laughing diesels? The smug grins on the twin's faces? Where the hell, in fact, were the twins?
"Edward!"
"Bill?" He was aware that his voice was beginning to crack from all the pressure put on it. "Where are you!?"
"Down here!" The voice came from deeper into the pits, down one of the sidings. There was Bill, and Ben, and...
Edward looked to his side, unwilling...unable to believe the evidence of his own eyes. But the ghostly BoCo who had been with him through Shining Time had vanished. Perhaps it was because he had accepted that BoCo was gone, perhaps it was because he was now so distressed that the death of his friend seemed rather minor, but there was no denying that...
That there, in front of him, was BoCo.
He looked...good. Well, even. True, there was a smattering of dust, but there would have been more suspicion on Edward's part if there hadn't been. He was smiling, wearily, in the same way that he often did after a rough day at the claypits.
They locked eyes.
"Hello, old chum!"
Edward looked at BoCo, and said not a word.
"You look surprised to see me! ...Didn't think you'd see me again, did you?"
Again, silence.
"I'm sorry about the lack of postcards and letters, but there was an issue with the mail- Well, you know how it is! Percy and Thomas probably cocked it up in someway, as they often did!"
Edward looked to Bill. And then to Ben. Both seemed excited, gloriously happy, to find that their supposedly dead guardian was here and alive. And under normal circumstances, Edward would have actually been crying at seeing his friend here.
But no.
"When did you arrive on the Island?"
"...What?"
"When. Did you. Get here."
"...Nineteen eighty-six. Look is this-"
"What year was it when you left?"
"Nineteen ninety eight, listen to me-"
"What secret did I tell you in ninety four that you promised to keep until I was ready to tell it?"
"...That you watched your friends dies during the war."
Edward was on the verge of laughing hysterically. It was so good! It sounded like BoCo! The inflections, the slight hint of annoyance in his tone, the slight sparkle in his smile, but then, always then, he returned his gaze to BoCo's eyes.
There was something not right about them."
"What did you say to me, on your last night here?"
BoCo blinked. "Now, mate, this is getting a little silly, isn't it? I mean, the boys have done a resourceful job taking care of the diesels over here, shouldn't we move out?"
"Listen to me, you bastard, WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME?! Our last bloody conversation! If you were BoCo, really BoCo, and you were gone for so long and had no way to contact me, like I did, you will be replaying that conversation over and over again until it is burned into your mind like ME!" Edward shook, the gun trembled.
"...I said that I was going to miss you a lot, and that I would come back as soon as I could-"
"No. No you did not say that. You didn't say anything, because you knew that it would have sounded insincere. Bill, Ben, get away from him." Edward's eyes suddenly seemed a great deal more damp than they had been a moment ago. "Get back from him, that's not the real BoCo!"
"But it is!"
"No, it is not! All right then, one final question...what did I say to YOU?"
"...This is ridiculous-" But 'BoCo' was aware of how the gun seemed to be aiming directly for his forehead. "You called me old chum, and said that when we met again, we'd have a good clear out of the Sidings-"
Edward relaxed. BoCo smiled.
The shot rang out, somehow managing to be even louder and more defeaning of all the bombs and screams and roars of the battle behind them. D3 slumped forward, already his body beginning to rust from the inside. The twins shouted, and moved towards Edward.
"...I actually said "May your rails never rust, and may your paintwork keep it's luster' but of course, you wouldn't know that." Edward's throat felt tight. Incredibly tight. He swallowed. "Twins, run."
"What?!"
"Where?"
"I don't care, just get to...to...to anywhere! Hide! PLEASE!" Edward pointed the gun at them. "GO! GO BEFORE I-"
But they were already gone, without a word.
Without another word, Edward backed away, keeping his eyes steadily away from the rotting corpse of the Fake BoCo, his anger already beginning to boil and blister underneath the somewhat calm exterior that he tried to keep up.
...
"BOO-YAH!" James shouted, as they materialized in the grotto. He paused. "Never let me do that again." Carlin and Starr nodded, it was rather awkward to be watching James try to be like a teenager.
"Bye James!"
"Bye Junior!" James hurried off. There was still time to get Gordon to 'relatively' safety. As Junior headed over to join the rest of his family, sneezing all the way, he looked over each of them.
"Well, ye all look like a bunch of shits."
"...Hello to you too, brat." Starr affectionately ruffled the young one's hair. "How is your mam? Still got the hots for...what's his face, the one who looks like O'Toole? Yeah, did not care for that guy at all."
"You know, I'd appreciate it if you didn't put images of what my sister was getting up to in my f**king head, Starr!" snapped Carlin. He paused and began to walk around, trying to get feeling back into his legs. "Damn it, we should be out there fighting!"
"With what? Sticks and stones? No chance, matey." Starr lay back and sighed, peacefully. "No, we just wait for the opportunity, and we take it. No prob."
"Prob." Mr Conductor looked at Junior, who kept his eyes focused on the ground and began to scuff his shoes.
"Sorry I took so long, cuz...better late than never?"
"So, how out of gold-dust are we?" Carlin interrupted. The three of them looked at Junior, who laughed nervously. "...Very, then. Well that's just terrific."
"Hey, it's a beautiful day-"
"Junior, get down from there before you hurt yourself, or worse, you start singing."
"I mean-" Junior continued as he jumped down from the ledge, nearly twisting his ankle as he did so. "-We're down, but we're not out!"
"No, we're out." Mr Conductor muttered, before trying to brighten up and inspire everyone with a bit of hope. "But we're not down!" He paused, and waited for the adulation for his great speech to pour in.
"This is why we don't let you f**king talk, idiot."
"Ah, leave him, he's daft. Reason why we keep him around!"
"You guys are BEING assholes for no reason!" Mr Conductor shouted. The other two ignored him and Junior as they compared how much gold-dust Starr had. He had just enough to teleport them a short distance. If they tried to get out using his supply, that would effectively put them in the water, or worse, result in some horrible accident involving teleportation.
No one was that willing to die.
...
It took him a good minute to realize that Duck was calling to him. The Great Western engine had taken damage, but not nearly as much as others. He looked battered and weary, but there was still a light in his eyes. Unlike Edward's own, he feared.
"Edward! Can you-"
"Did you get through?" Edward felt like throwing up, for some strange reason. "Please, tell me you got through, that all of this has been worth it, somehow!"
"I did! One of the old radios my driver had, got enough signal through to the Iron Circle. That was twenty minutes ago, even with our tech, it's going to take them time to get here-"
"HOW LONG?!"
Duck flinched at the…anger? Upset? Terror? Whatever it was in Edward's voice, it wasn't pretty. "Another ten minutes."
"We can't hold out for ten minutes! We've lost!"
"Well, that isn't my fault, is it?!" Duck paused. "No, you know what? It probably is. But you can't give up. Not now."
"I- "Edward's eyes widened. "-don't move."
"You don't move?"
"Duck, I'm serious. Don't move."
"The all mighty Edward. I believe it was Old Iron, that you were once called?" The mocking voice of Marklin, through Class 40's droning tones, sent chills down Duck's boiler. "Fitting name, now that I think about it. Old Iron. Something that should have been melted down into something useful a long time ago."
"Ah, Marklin. You know, you'll think me a silly old fool for this, but I never quite imagined you'd go this far. Outright invasion didn't suit you, I thought."
"Why? Because I'm a tank engine? Because I'm German?"
"No. Because you're a steam engine. I assumed you understood that we had to be better than those who wished us harm. No matter what happened."
"I am better. I have always been better, Edward. Than James. Than Gordon. Than Henry. Than Thomas. And yes, even more than you."
"That's not hard." Edward knew how weary he sounded. "You're definitely very good at this. War. Far better than I could ever hope to be. In fact, dare I say it, you're a master at it."
"Well-"
"But you're wrong, you know. I don't like myself. I don't like the engine I see in the mirror anymore. And yet, I will say this. I am far better than you will ever be. It doesn't matter how many you kill, how many you take…you won't remove their memory, you won't make them not exist, people will remember them far more than they ever will you. They're all better engines than you'll ever be. Even those loudmouth tender engines that we always used to gripe about…good engines. Engines you count on when the chips were really down. No one counts on you, Marklin. You could have done so much good."
"It would have been boring! Like you! Silly little mixed traffic wannabe! Look at you, ground down by the years and by the stupidity of your fellow engines. It'll be different when I'm in charge!"
"You want to know why I'm better than you, Marklin? It's not because I've only killed today because I had to, because it was either me or him, it's not because I hold no illusions that what I'm doing is in anyway great or wonderful of fun, it's not because I'm a tender engine and you're a tank engine, and it's not even the fact that I'm fighting for my friends and the innocent, and you're just fighting for…you. Though those are all very good reasons in and of themselves. I'm better than you because at least I tried to fix things! I tried to fight this bloody classist system, I tried to make life easier for everyone! What did you do? You took the easy way out!"
"Shut up!" Marklin sounded on edge.
"What's that matter, I strike a nerve?!" Edward very gingerly tilted the gun around Duck's tanks. The latter had remained still as a statue during this rant "So, come on out! Let's end this!"
Nothing happened for what felt like an eternity, but was in reality seven seconds.
And then slowly, very slowly, Bowler's buffers rounded the corner of the track. The second that the grey of the diesel's face appeared, Edward fired. He fired bullet after bullet after bullet, a whole hailstorm of bullets, right at Bowler. The diesel screamed and tried to back away, but Edward kept puffing forward, firing again and again, frying the circuitry and trapping the diesel.
Bowler managed to get off a single shot. Duck screamed in agony as the bullet pierced his side. Edward growled and shoved Duck onto a siding out of the way, before marching forward towards Bowler, who lay on his side, leaking blood and black smoke all over the place.
"Why?" whispered the diesel. "You…..said….we'd rule together."
Marklin grinned, and looked up. "Well, better go and follow the money. Or in this case, the magic. My new form is almost complete! Ta ta, Class 40! You were a shit host, and I'm glad to be rid of you!" And he took off, flying through the air.
Bowler's scream of rage turned into a shriek of agony as Edward finished him off permanently with a final few shots to the face.
Edward looked up in fury at the departing ghost, who was following the stream of magic and life-force being released from the many, many, MANY dead back towards a portal. "Damn, damn, DAMN!" He looked back. "Duck, how are you?"
"I'm pretty sure that I'm not supposed to be bleeding this badly. It hurts a lot."
"Yes, well, getting shot will do that to you."
Duck was about to respond, when he heard a familiar deep toned whistle. He froze. "Oh god. The Juggernaut! He's coming this way! Edward, you have to-"
"I'll hold him off. You get going, meet up with the others, and get them the hell away from the Island!"
"But, you're-"
"Old? Done for? Probably. But this way, there's a chance that we can win this back, if we can even call it a win after all the chaos today. This way, I get to catch up with Marklin. I'm going to finish this one way or another." Edward grinned. "Good luck, Monta-" He paused, and gave a genuinely soft smile "Good luck, Duck. Now go! They need you!"
And as Duck backed away, regretfully, Edward took a deep breath and charged at the armored train.
The Juggernaut snarled, though to Edward it came out as a loud wheeshing of ventilated steam, and increased speed. Edward shut his eyes and waited for the inevitable.
It didn't disappoint. The great titan practically flung the blue engine up into the air. For a moment, Edward's entire world went higgeldy piggedly, back to front, inside out and every other inversion that he could think of, before he managed to tilt himself downwards at an angle.
And he did what no other engine had ever done in the entire history of engine-kind.
When he landed, he cracked the Juggernaut's armor. He saw inside, at the startled and furious face of his former working colleague from all those years ago during the war.
He had enough time to gain a momentary bit of glee at the thought before the Juggernaut pounded the consciousness out of him.
…
Captain Zero sauntered into Knapford. He grinned and looked around, casually picking the remains of an inert Pincher onto the track, before heading into the office. He slapped away the VHS's of Scooby Doo, How the Grinch Stole Christmas and some Biblical movie that he'd never heard of. He sat down, puffed on a cigar and let out a deep, deep sigh.
It was over.
The battle was won.
Swinging his feet upon Hatt's desk, he looked around and began to picture it now. A whole fleet of Z-Stacks, not just on the water, but in the air, on the ground, beneath the ground even! The world would soon be his oyster, and he'd leave the Fat DIrector and Boomer to argue about how to rule it. Just give him all of the money, and he would quite happily take the backseat.
Speaking of Boomer...
He pulled out his cell phone and quickly phoned up P.T himself. "Ach, we've done it man! We've got them! We've got them!"
"Terrific! About time! The scavenger crews are coming back with prisoners now, and any others are probably preparing for a counter attack."
"Should I order my men ta stay behind and deal with yon fools?"
"No. You and your men need to return to Shining Time. I rather think that killing their heroes in front of everyone will be sufficiently demoralizing enough. Besides, we're having a cocktail party! All of us! It'll be a blast!"
"Ye've got TV there, have ye?"
"All eyes are on us."
"Then I willnae miss it!"
...
On Gordon's Hill, the engine himself was being dragged down by a very weary James towards Wellsworth. In a quarry somewhere, Mavis helped Henry, Toby and a badly injured Percy onto the old tramway. And not too far from where the Little Western was, a very tired Duck came to a rough stop in front of Stepney, who gently made sure to take him into the remains of an old shed.
No one noticed then, as the Spiteful Brake-van, U.L.P, Rickety, Fred Pelhay and the last of the trucks made one final dash for one of the portals left unguarded by the Fat Director's lot. There was one last thing they needed to do.
Everyone else was gone.
Sodor had fallen. The day belonged to the Other Railway.
Or did it?
For far away (Not to another universe, mind), an old man and his grand daughter sat besides an old engine, wiping her down one last time and checking her over. Lily looked to Burnett for a moment, and decided to ask a potentially awkward question.
"Did grandma love Lady as much as you do? ...Did she ever get to ride on her?"
Burnett was silent for a moment, a very long moment so it seemed, before he spoke with weariness. "Grandma loved her, yeah. I think maybe that's because I loved her so much. She wanted to move on, but I...wanted to stay and keep her safe. So she stayed with me. She never got to ride on her, properly anyway. She was unconscious when we brought her here...I couldn't fix her in time." He paused and wiped away a tear from his eye.
Lily reached forward and squeezed his hand. Startled, he paused...and then squeezed back, looking down fondly at the matching friendship bracelets. "You're so much like her." He muttered.
"Um, am I interrupting?"
"...No Patch. Come on. Let's give it a shot."
They shoveled the coal in, making sure to arrange it as best they could. They left the coal in her bunker, before with a deep breath, Burnett began to fiddle with the controls. There was a moment of silence...and then from her funnel came the unmistakable sight and sound of steam. Her lights flickered on, and Burnett stared open-mouthed, as without warning, her whistle rang out proud and true.
Patch and Lily jumped on, and Mutt too (He had gotten the hell out of dodge) and together they gripped the sides of the cab.
Then Lady's wheels began to move, slowly at first, with great difficulty, they picked up speed. At first they worried that they would hit the wall, but with a bright flash of light and the sound of distant whistling...they found that there were a new set of tracks to follow. Burnett pulled the whistle and roared with delighted laughter for the first time in years.
At long last, Lady started on the long trek home.
REVIEW TIME.
MattPrice01: Aww, thanks! Really glad you enjoy.
Kamen Rider Necrom: I am glad!
Bronze Shield: Thank you!
bigyihsuan: SOON.
Reality Rejection Service: That is kind of what I'm rolling with as well, the idea that if Gordon or Henry was in charge, the Island would have fallen completely. Edward knows that they can't win, bar a moment of madness in this chapter, but he knows that it's important to buy time so that those who can win can get ready. The reason that they start losing here is because the Other Railway is smart, it's not sending in engines like the Juggernaut or Diesel 10 to areas where they can be taken out easily, rather holding back on them for the big moments. The only reason the Other Railway won this battle was because the engines ultimately aren't equipped for a battle like this. But for what it's worth, they gave a hell of a fight. Yeah, you just have to roll with the madness at this point.
Radical sandwiches: Ha! Yeah, that was the scariest thing I could write at that point!
TrainManiac: Glad you thought it was epic! Hopefully the conclusion leaves you relatively satisfied.
Phillip Clark: Has been fixed! Thanks for pointing that out.
Reid007: Was a mistake, has been corrected, hope you enjoyed nonetheless!
AaronCottrell97: I'm so glad everyone loved that line, it was a joy to write!
UGX7: Had Caroline not popped in up in the background a lot during the HIT seasons, she would have definitely been one of the characters on the chopping block because she really didn't do anything after Season 5. The Bulstrode stuff is funny, but I figured that since he doesn't appear again in the series, and his model was already being taken apart to use as background dressing, killing him would fit.
The Guest: Those are good ideas with regards to the new characters! I'll definitely consider them if nothing else. Truro's face getting burned does get a little explanation here, but it might be expanded upon later.
-So, let's talk a bit about the battle. Why did it happen? Why didn't I save it for, say, the end of the actual story as opposed to it being a two part event? Well, the first reason is that I did want the story to feel pretty big and having a battle on this scale helped with that. But secondly, and more importantly, I wanted to create a reason for all the areas that we don't see again after Season 5 (Even if they have returned at present, they went missing for a long period of time following said season) and why they're gone. The destruction of Crovan's Gate in particular was meant to explain why the Skarloey engines seem to move to the mountains in later seasons (At least, more so than usual). Crosby, the old quarry, the china clay pits, Maron, Suddery...this is my way of temporarily writing them out. Until such time as they return in the series proper.
-A third reason is because I feel that the James scene in the movie proper has a very awkward feel to it. As if it was part of something bigger originally, but it ended up being another remnant of the old drafts. Here, at least, it makes more sense given the wider battle going on. And especially since we don't see James again after this point (Or any other engine not named Thomas, Lady or Diesel 10), I wanted there to be something going on for the other engines.
-Sir Handel running away is meant to explain HIS absence in all seasons up to Season 10. Originally the plan was to just have him gone in Season 5, but I figured that having him give into his jerk side and leaving Duke and Peter Sam would make for a more interesting dynamic for when he ultimately returns. And why he almost seems like a different character all together.
-What about Duke himself? Well, again, I've a plan, but...that's a story for another time. I'm deliberately leaving it open for interpretation whether or not he died or not, primarily because...well, he's a character that we've had rumblings about returning to the series proper for ages, so I don't want to kill him for good. But yeah, he's not coming back for a long time.
-Where have Rusty and Rheneas gone to? All will be revealed! But not how you might have expected it to be.
-Class 40 had no point to the story any more. Bye bye, Class 40. You were quite pointless. It did give me a chance to write more scenes with Marklin though, who is going to be quite important in the next two parts.
-So for the record, the ones taken by the Other Railway (Back to Shining Time as it happens) are Edward, Oliver, Donald, Douglas, Bill, Ben, Butch, Caroline, Skarloey Duncan and Peter Sam. Unless I'm forgetting anyone, that leaves Henry, Gordon, James, Percy, Toby, Duck, Mavis, Harold, Bertie, Terrance and Trevor still active on the Island, with Thomas on his way back. But wait, I hear you cry, why haven't you done anything with Harold? ...Just give it time. We're almost there.
-Another few references here to the original VHS Magic Railroad. On that was advertisements for videos of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Scooby Doo and the Alien Invaders and The Miraclemaker, a stop motion retelling of Jesus's life. Just a little shout out there.
-A lot of the ending of the battle came about because of one of my favorite musical albums, Jeff Wayne' War of the Worlds. Just a little trivia for you there. Hell, back when I was thinking about having this be a musical, I was originally going to take a few tracks from that CD and adapt them.
-Quick little note regarding next time. A lot of the Magic Railroad stuff is going to get wrapped up somewhat. Part of that is because I want to get rid of the somewhat small climax of the movie so that I can get to Part 10, which is essentially the climax I'D give if I were in charge. Big, epic and wrapping up a good few plot points. Hope you enjoy.