The worker returned to Fernby.
"They wholeheartedly refused," he said. "They said, and I quote, "We aren't selling you anything. If you want tank engines, try R. Fraser & Sons scrapyard.""
"So the Metropolitan doesn't believe in Sodor, it seems," said Fernby. "Very well, I will go there."
He made a several day trip, and went up to the owner of the scrapyard.
"I heard you had some ex-Metropolitan Railway tank engines."
"We do," said the owner.
"Then show them to me," Fernby ordered. "My railway needs engines and you've got some."
The owner took him on a tour and showed him the A Class 4-4-0 tank engines he hadn't scrapped yet.
"Hello, there," he said, to the one that was in the most perfect condition. "Would you like the chance to return to service?"
"Of course, Sir!"
"In that case, I'm buying you," said Fernby.
"No, buy me!" another tank engine shouted.
"I'm the one you should buy!" shouted a third. The three tank engines began arguing, until Fernby whistled for them to stop.
"I'll tell you what: I'll buy all three of you. I have the money and three engines are better than one."
"Sounds fair to me," said the engines.
"Excellent! Now, let me just fill out the papers, and I'll take you to your new home."
Some hours later, the 3 tank engines were loaded onto a flatbed, repaired at Vickers Shipyard, and taken to Sodor once that was finished,
Once there, they were received by a very surprised Edward.
"I didn't know we were getting new engines!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, they all wanted to come," said Fernby. "Now run along, Edward: I need to talk with these three, privately."
"If you say so," said Edward, and he steamed off.
"Now, welcome to your new home. I have a very important task I want you three to do."
"What would this task be sir?" asked one of the tank engines.
"I brought you all here to help me get rid of an engine that the higher ups refuse to get rid of," explained Fernby. "His name is Thomas and he's an E2 class tank engine. You three are going to destroy him by any means necessary."
"Why should we help you?" the tank engine asked.
"Because I own you, and this engine is very troublesome, tried to ruin my own name, he did. Help me get rid of him, and the one who does gets his own branch line."
"Of course sir!" said the Mets.
"Excellent! You'll be taken to Crovan's Gate and unloaded at once! Oh, and don't make it obvious you're trying to destroy him: it must be done discretely."
After they were taken to Crovan's Gate, the three tank engines were allowed to choose their own colours. One decided to keep the MET Red, another went with blue, while the third went with green. After that was done, they were steamed up and sent to Vicarstown yard. Once there, they met a certain blue tank engine.
"Oh, I didn't know we were getting new faces! I'm Thomas! Can't stop, work to do. Catch you later!"
And he steamed away.
"So that's who Fernby wants us to target," said the blue one. "We better get down to our task."
"I don't know, guys," said the red one. "He doesn't really seem like a bad engine, we should just talk to him."
"Talk, schmock!" scoffed the green one. "Our orders were to destroy him and destroy him we shall! Now come on, let's get going!" The blue and green engines scurried away, leaving the red one alone.
"Something tells me we shouldn't be doing this," he said to himself.
The tank engines tried different ways to get rid of Thomas. The green one, who enjoyed action, tried to push some trucks loaded with gunpowder towards him. But a quick-thinking shunter managed to make sure they avoided the E2.
"Holy hell!" screamed a blond pipsqueak. "Did you see that, Thomas?"
The green one, upset, scurried off before anybody could spot him.
The blue one, more cautious, tried to push Thomas through a set of buffers. But the E2 moved away at the last second, and he went through them instead.
"Dammit!"
The red one proved to be the most sensible: instead of using violence, he decided to talk to him directly,
"Hey, um, Thomas, can I ask you something?" he asked.
"What is it?" asked Thomas.
"I heard you'd do something that ruined Fernby's reputation, is this true?"
Thomas scowled.
"Ruin his reputation? I wouldn't have a problem with him if he hadn't messed with my partner first," snorted Thomas. "His spoiled daughter threatened to scrap me when my partner refused her marriage proposal, and Fernby accused our General Manager, Sir Topham Hatt, of physically assaulting her. I don't know who told you I ruined his reputation, I did no such thing!"
"I knew something was fishy," said the red one. "I'm only telling you this because I had a suspicion this was incorrect: Fernby told me and my brothers that you ruined his reputation and ordered us to get rid of you. He also promised a branch line as payment. Now then, where can I find this Sir Topham Hatt?"
Thomas couldn't believe Fernby would stoop this low!
"You can find him at Vicarstown," the E2 answered. "But you better hurry before Fernby and your brothers catch on."
The red one immediately raced over to the station and told the Fat Director everything. The Fat Director listened intently.
"Thank you for telling me this," he said. "I'll be having some stern words for Fernby when I next see him."
"Thank you sir," said the red one. He was about to puff off when the Fat Director called out, "WAIT!" The red one came to a stop.
"What is your name?" asked the Fat Director.
"I never had one sir," the red one replied.
"In that case, how about I call you, um, John, after your CME, Sir John Fowler."
"Thank you sir, I greatly appreciate that!"
The other tank engines were furious with their brother.
"What the hell, reddy!" snapped the green one. "You've no right to rat out our owner!"
"First off, the name's John. Secondly, I have every right to do so: Thomas isn't guilty of anything, it's Fernby."
"So what if Thomas isn't guilty?!" snapped the blue one. "Fernby's given us a new home and a new chance at life, you ungrateful bastard!"
"On the contrary: he works for Sir Topham Hatt, so technically, HE is our new owner. We don't have to listen to Fernby at all."
"Well screw you John!" shouted the green one. "At least Bluey and I care about doing what we're ordered to do!"
"And let me guess: you're Greeny," snarked John. "Pathetic, at least my name has actual meaning: you two just looked at your colours and called it a day. Besides, Thomas already knows: I spoke to him and told him once he told me the truth about Fernby. So you should stop this crusade of yours: there's no point anymore."
"Screw you, traitor!" snapped "Bluey". "Greeny and I are staying loyal to the man who bought us, not some wannabe manager who doesn't consider his feelings!" And the two MET tanks scampered away. John gave a sigh.
"Time to warn Thomas again," he said.
Thomas couldn't help but feel nervous when John informed him.
"What am I supposed to do?! They'll get me for sure!"
"Stay in the station," John said sternly. "Greeny and Bluey are stupid, but not that stupid: they'll know attacking you where there are lots of people will draw too much attention. Leave your work to me: I may not know how to be a station pilot, but I'm not letting you risk getting blown up."
"Thank you John," said Thomas, feeling relieved.
The MET kept his word and did all the shunting. He treated the trucks and coaches well, and even managed to befriend the other engines.
As he passed a rake of coaches he left in the station, he heard the Fat Director screaming at someone.
"Why should I believe you after you framed me for assaulting your daughter?" the Fat Director scolded Fernby.
"Well, believe me, for I have no damn idea what you are talking about" said Fernby, trying to sound innocent.
"But I do," said John. "After all, I was one of those three engines you bought to destroy him."
"I'd never buy anybody to destroy anybody!" Fernby said. "Why number…"
"The name's John now," said the MET Tank. "And you'll refer to me as such."
"Well, John, I would never! I bought your siblings to do shunting here!"
"Funny: this station already has a shunter, surely it doesn't need another."
"There's no such thing as too many shunters. What if Thomas was to break down?"
"You'd enjoy that, after what he said to your spoiled ugly daughter," snarked John. Fernby was now furious.
"How dare you insult my daughter! I'll make you pay, I may not have gotten Topham, but I can get you!"
"Then go ahead: I'm standing right here," said John with a smirk. Fernby raised his fists, looking as though he wanted to punch the tank engine. Instead, he turned and walked away.
"You're fired!" bellowed the Fat Director.
"NO FAIR!" shouted a voice. Several workmen came running up angrily.
"FERNBY TREATS US BETTER THAN ANY OTHER CME!" shouted one. This was the only thing the Fat Director and John understood: the rest were shouting so much it sounded like gibberish. The Fat Director tried to shush them, but it was no good: they kept protesting. John, losing patience, blew his whistle.
"For goodness sake, Fernby tried to sue Sir Topham and is trying to destroy Thomas!" John scolded. "You don't want somebody like that to lead you!"
"On the contrary: Fernby ensures we get high wages without having to do much work. No other CME would use their connections to the Labour Party to do that!"
"He's using you!" John pointed out. "He never…" But the MET Tank found himself silenced by the workmen protesting once more.
"Keep him or we will strike! Keep him on or we will strike!" they shouted. Again and again, they repeated this. At last, the Fat Director couldn't take it anymore.
"ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT!" he shouted. "Fernby isn't fired, he'll stay! Now get back to work!" The workmen did so, pleased.
"Wow! I had no idea workmen could overthrow any decision their boss makes," said John.
"Well, John, now you see why Fernby's a problem: every time I try to fire him, the workmen go on strike. As that guy said, Fernby has connections to the Labour Party that allow him to guarantee better wages for less work. That also means our workshops produce only some coaches whenever he actually has inspiration to work, which is very rare."
"Wealth certainly corrupts many a mind," agreed John. "I just hope it's not too late for my siblings: it's definitely too late for those workmen."
The Fat Director silently nodded in agreement.
Elsewhere, Fernby was furiously ranting to Greeny and Bluey.
"How could your brother turn on us?!" he shouted.
"Don't blame us, we didn't tell him to," Greeny pointed out.
"We tried to remind him that you saved us from scrap, but he wouldn't listen," snorted Bluey.
"Is it me that's not listening, or you?"
John steamed up to his brothers.
"The insult Thomas gave his daughter was well-deserved," John continued. "After all, she did threaten to scrap him. Besides, he only bought all of us after we started arguing about who he should pick."
"At least he didn't go eenie-meenie-miney-moe!" snapped Bluey.
"The fact still stands he would've ditched the rest of us had we not fought," John pointed out.
"No, I would have not," said Fernby.
"Is that so?" asked John.
"Of course it's so, stupid!" Greeny snapped. "You don't know him as well as we do!"
"Do you really know him?" John asked. "Or just the side he shows you?"
"What are you talking about John?" Fernby asked innocently.
"Oh I think you know," said John. "A friendly man who donates to help the poor and does what's best for his workforce. OR that's what the public sees you as. In reality, you're a greedy deceitful psychopath, the only people you truly care about are your wife and your daughter. These two may be fooled by your acts of kindness, and so is the public, but I'm not, and neither are the engines or Sir Topham Hatt: we see through you, the kind of man you really are."
"It seems you've been brainwashed by Sir Topham," said Fernby.
"No I haven't, said John. "I don't have a brain."
"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT YOU LITERAL-HEAD!" Fernby shouted. John began chuckling.
"And they say cringy-jokes aren't funny," he said.
"You got some nerve insulting our owner," said Bluey.
"Some owner he is," said John. "He doesn't even do any actual engineering: just imports designs from elsewhere and calls it a day."
"You think it's easy creating new designs during the war?" Fernby asked.
"Absolutely: all you need is a desk, paper, measuring tools, and a pencil. If you can't do that, you're way too lazy."
"And what if the workshops gets blown up!" snapped Fernby.
"Then I guess the world has one less lazy-asshole to deal with," said John. "And especially this railway."
"I've heard just about enough," said Fernby. "You wanna work for Sir Topham, work for him. I do not want to see you with us again."
"I don't think you'll have a choice in the matter," said John, reversing away. He glared at his brothers until he couldn't see them anymore.
"Some nerve that traitor's got," snorted Greeny. "I say we get rid of him as well as Thomas."