The Decapod was painted a reddish-brown with red lining and a black running board. Mr. Perkins was ecstatic as he led the Fat Director and Lord Harwick over to the giant tank engine.
"What exactly can we use a Decapod for?" asked Lord Harwick.
"This boy can outdo any electric on the market! I'm sure he can climb the Incline without sweating. Hurricane! Awake!" he shouted.
Nothing happened. The engine still had no face.
"I believe you need to start up the fire first," said the Fat Director.
"I swore I lit the fire this morning," said Mr. Perkins. "He should have underwent his awakening already!"
"He's not wrong," said Lord Harwick. "I mean, why else would steam be coming out of the funnel?"
"Perhaps something is missing. Perhaps… Oh, my God!"
Steam had begun to form around the firebox. Sir Topham Hatt knew what was happening: an awakening.
"It's happening! It's happening!" shouted Perkins. As minutes ticked by, a bright light showed on the smokebox door.
"What the bloody…?"
An hour later, the light vanished, and in its place, was a face.
"Where am I? Who am I? Who is my master?"
"That would be me," said the Fat Director. "I am Sir Topham Hatt. This man is our Chairman, Sir Albert Regaby, and this man here is the one who built you, Ben Forster Perkins."
"Then my purpose is to serve you? What do you require of me?"
"I require you to haul heavy loads along my railway," said the Fat Director. "Work has been getting busier for my other engines."
"When must I begin?" asked the engine.
"It's about noon, so… immediately," said Perkins. "But first, we should put you through some steaming trials and check if all your systems are functioning properly, see if there are any flaws, Hurricane."
"Flaws?" asked the Decapod. "How could I be flawed? And to what name must I answer?"
"I named you Hurricane. That's your name."
"I am Hurricane, then. I am your servant. I am at your command."
"Excellent! Now let's get your trials underway."
His first trial was to haul some wagons: these had just been repaired and were needed at Vicarstown. He proved to be every bit as strong as expected, however, he also was tremendously rough.
Hurricane also had another flaw: his wheelbase was too tight for some curves.
However, that was no real problem. Hurricane wasn't a shunter.
His next trial involved the Maron Incline. It was hard work for any engine. Hurricane, however, managed it with ease. Even when pulling a heavy train, he had no problem getting to Maron. However, some of the engineers noticed something with a few bridges.
"That new engine's making these bridges more liable to break every time he rolls over," one of them said. "They'll need to be strengthened in order to be able to handle him full-time."
"How much steel will you need?" asked the Fat Director.
"A lot of steel," the workman answered. "It'll need to be heavy too."
Despite that, Perkins was satisfied with his new locomotive. All the same, since Hurricane couldn't be used much on the mainline, he decided to have him bank trains at Wellsworth, with the occasional heavy goods train going to Vicarstown. Rolf couldn't help but find something odd.
"I just don't understand," he said to Luoc and MacHarold. "Most engines of that size get upset when they get relegated to lesser duties they weren't designed for. But Hurricane: he just sits around and banks like it's no problem. How's he not upset?"
"I can explain," said Hurricane. "My master told me to bank at this incline. So that's what I do."
"Your master?" asked Rolf.
"Ben Forster Perkins: he built me and named me, that makes him my master," replied Hurricane.
The three W&S engines shared an aside glance, before returning their looks to the Decapod.
"Hurricane," said MacHarold, "you don't have to obey every order your master gives you."
"Then who would bank this treacherous incline? I alone am strong enough to bank the heaviest trains. Such is my job, and I accept it."
"You're telling me you don't feel restricted?" Luoc questioned. Hurricane thought about this.
"Well," he said at last, "I do damage bridges."
"Nobody is to blame for that, I think," replied Rolf. "I mean, those bridges were built before you."
"Thank you. I do not, however, see why you are on disagreement with loyalty."
"It makes more sense than you think," said Rolf. "Yes, we're designed to serve humans, but would you really work for him if he mistreated you?"
"He is a fair man. He even asked me if I would be alright with banking trains for a while," argued Hurricane. "And I am."
"Well…no problem, I guess."
At Vicarstown, the current topic of talk was Hurricane.
"A decapod. Seems he was worth the money spent," began Lily.. "That said…was there any point? He's only useful for banking since he easily damages the bridges."
"Missing your old job are you?" asked Thomas cheekily.
"Ha ha, very funny," said Lily. "He was supposed to be the newest heavy goods engine. Instead, he's stuck at Wellsworth banking other trains."
"It's not his fault," Edward said. "The bridges hadn't been built with 0-10-0s in mind."
"At least the Maron Viaduct handles him well," said 98462. "The strongest bridges can handle his weight. The wooden ones, however…"
"Yes. I've heard they're reinforcing those, however," put in Emily.
"Will definitely take a while to do so," put in Selena. "Especially when we're all working. It definitely takes longer to upgrade bridges when railways are running."
"Let's see how it goes, then. He's definitely needed," put in Luci.
"I doubt he'll do much," growled Thomas. "After the last big engine…"
"Will you live it down?" asked Edward.
"Why should I?" asked Thomas.
"Because it was months ago, back in March," Edward pointed out. "It's now July. Besides, Hurricane's not like Henry: he's a tank engine just like you."
"Just like me? Pah! He's got way too many wheels to be just like me!"
"Would you prefer your sister being brought here?" Edward asked innocently.
"My sister? Now that you mention it, I don't know if any of my siblings were girls. One may have been, I don't really remember."
"The point is, Hurricane seems to be a nice guy," said Edward firmly. "You should give him a chance."
"Not unless he proves to be worthy of my trust," said Thomas, obstinately.
"Thomas, not all big engines are bad. You're becoming like that racist tank engine back on the Furness."
"No I'm not," insisted Thomas. "He was racist just because he could. I actually HAVE a reason."
"And what about me, huh? What am I then?"
"A…small engine, just like me?"
"And what determines whether an engine is big or small to you, Thomas the Tank Engine?" Edward asked.
"Why should it matter? You're different: you've always been there for me even when I didn't want you to. You were the first engine I could actually call my best friend."
"Well, can you really consider Luci a bad engine?" Edward questioned.
"Luci actually proved himself when he protected me from Amy," Thomas reminded. "Hurricane…he's a giant!"
"You're just twisting facts to your convenience now," Edward pointed out. "If you were to place them side-by-side, I'm sure Luci would dwarf Hurricane."
"I…I…"
Thomas said no more, and the topic of conversation shifted to any engines they would want to work alongside.
"What about a double-single?" asked Emily.
"A double-single?! That's a 4-4-0!" Lily snapped.
"Not quite. It would be more like a 4-2-2-0. The LSWR has been building some."
"What's the difference?" asked Lily.
"Well…A double single has a different set of siderods, for starters. Also, they have two drivers that aren't connected to each other."
"A 4-4-0 with extra steps, then?" Lily snarked.
"What we need is a new Mogul. 87546 wasn't worth it, but a 2-6-0 would do wonders," said Edward.
"What about another 4-6-0? The GCR has many," added Luci. "Or an Atlantic, if need be."
"I'd rather not take any chances with another Atlantic, thank you," snorted Thomas.
"Well, any better suggestions?"
"I DO have one," interrupted Olive. "A GWR 4200. Those are 2-8-0 tank engines used on heavy goods."
"Sounds like a good idea. With the rebuilt of the bridges to support Hurricane's weight, getting one of those would help"
"I can't really recommend any Midland engines," sighed Selena "Their policy will saddle us with an underpowered engine. Besides, they don't want to send any engines here."
"And you, Lily? Any suggestions?"
"Eh, not really," said Lily. "There's nothing revolutionary in the L&Y, except for that discarded 2-10-0 I heard about while in Horwich. Most likely just a rumour."
"Emily?"
"I wouldn't be able to say: been a long time since I've been up-to-date with the Great Northern. The last thing I heard about was Gresley's building a 2-8-0, called an O1. That was back in 1912, however."
"What about you, Edward?" asked 98462.
"I think I heard from a visiting engine about these tank engines referred to as Baltics," Edward replied. "They have a 4-6-4 wheel arrangement and are being used on express passenger trains between Carnforth and Whitehaven."
"A tank engine on expresses? That's impossible!" scoffed Lily. "Tank engines don't have enough coal and water for long trips."
"You really think I don't exist?" asked an unfamiliar voice. A giant red tank engine with the number of 134 steamed onto the turntable. "Before you ask, I'm visiting," he said. "Had to be diverted to Vicarstown after a points failure at Barrow. Nice island, accidental tourism seems to be worth it."
"You're welcome to stay if you want," Edward said. "We do need another engine."
"Your Chairman will have to speak to the Furness," he answered. "Now, back to you, Mrs. Black, can you say I don't exist now?"
"You may exist, but you're no express engine! There's no way you can get from Vicarstown to Tidmouth nonstop!"
"You wanna find out?" 134 asked, as the turntable turned towards Lily. "Well, let me take your train tomorrow. And while we're on that, how do you do it?"
"Do what?" Lily asked.
"Attract all these boys of course," said 134. "I mean, there are four boys, not counting me, and they're all surrounding you. You must be a really hot engine to attract so much boy attention." Lily felt her face go red. "Yes, an engine who attracts every boy on the railway. Why I bet every night they ask if they can join you in your berth and spend some…"
"PERVERT!"
Without warning, Lily rammed into the tank engine full speed! She pushed him against a siding and began bumping him over and over again!
"LILY STOP! HE'S ALREADY DEAD!" Edward shouted. Lily realised what she was doing and reversed away from the tank engine, who felt a serious headache.
"Waitor," he said, "thar's a bowl in mah shoop." And with that, he passed out.
"Somebody's got anger issues," said Olive.
"What just happened?" asked 98462.
"Uh, why are you asking? You've been here the whole time," Olive pointed out.
"I just…this seems like a scene from a poorly written novel…not that I read any novels."
"Sorry about that," said Lily. "I don't know what came over me."
"I don't know what he meant, I don't find you attractive," said Thomas.
"You're saying I'm ugly?!"
"In terms of personality," retorted Thomas.
"Before this devolves into a conversation of what you gang of perverts find attractive," interrupted Emily, "it's late, everyone to sleep."
"I'm not…"
"I SAID, EVERYONE GO TO SLEEP!"
134 was put to work the next morning. Thomas moved the coaches into the platform and the Baltic backed down onto them.
"Do you have a name?" Thomas asked.
"Back home, they called me Dante," the tank engine answered. "I'm kind of the most awesome engine around."
"Awesome how?" asked Thomas.
"Oh, you'll see. Is the train due to depart already?"
"In…five minutes."
"Has the guard blown his whistle?"
"I…think no…why do you ask?"
"A shunter like you wouldn't get it."
Lily entered the station with a stopper train at that moment.
"Wanna see what I can do, my lady?"
"Oh, shut it! You're a tank engine, you can't go faster than me!"
"You're right. There's no way I can outspeed you"
"Seems you finally…"
"Actually…I can. I don't have that big, heavy tender you have. Such a bottom won't make you any faster!"
"How dare…"
"Besides, you big engines consume too much coal. I think I should take over as an express engine. I'm more economical."
Finally, the guard blew his whistle, and Dante departed. Not in an usual way: he blew steam in all directions while spinning his wheels in place, and then shot off.
"Let's rock, ladies!" he called to the coaches. "The Dante Express is departing right now"
It was clear Dante didn't give a crap about danger: he slammed his brakes just to skid on every curve he passed, made sure to lift a cool curtain of sparks each time he stopped or started up, and flew by points at deadly speeds, all while laughing in glee. Even as he descended the Maron Incline he didn't slow down, and only applied his brakes to skate past Wellsworth.
As the train approached Tidmouth, Dante didn't show any signs of slowing down, much to the worry of his driver.
"Dante? We're here."
No response.
"Dante?"
At the last possible second, Dante slammed his brakes on, skidding on the tracks towards a bay platform, stopping inches away from the buffers. The passengers disembarked, clearly looking furious. They began complaining about the dangerous ride.
"Oh, come ON! It was fun!"
"Fun is a subjective term here," said a voice. The Fat Director had been at Tidmouth to talk to John and saw everything. "Speed is not all that matters with express trains," he said sternly. "Yes, express trains are fast, but they must also be comfortable for the passengers. Speed isn't everything, especially on my railway. Consider yourself lucky I decided to buy you, otherwise, I'd be sending you back. Perhaps," the Fat Director continued, "a month or so on goods trains will make you realise that."
"Uh-huh. At least the trucks are likely to appreciate my stunts. Where do I leave this train?"
"If trucks won't teach you to be careful," said the Fat Director, "perhaps slow stopping trains will."
"Slow?! Come on! I've got no problem with goods, as long as the train is fast!" protested Dante.
"Then you won't have a problem with slow trains," said the Fat Director. "I bid you good day." And with that, the Fat Director walked away.
"Me…go slow…As if!"
"You can't deny that was dangerous," intervened his driver. "Especially that hill stunt: we could've crashed!"
"Brother, I know what I'm doing. Please don't nag me."
Lily arrived some minutes later, and was told by a Salt Van all that happened.
"Tell me he didn't pass Crovan's Gate," she pleaded.
"How should I know? I've been here all day," retorted the van. "However, my cousin Polly could know…or, you could ask him: he's right there."
Lily steamed over to Dante, slightly concerned.
"You did stop at Crovan's Gate, right?" she asked.
"No. Don't think so. Was I supposed to stop?"
"Of course you were!" snapped Lily.
"How was I to know? Nobody told me the schedule!"
"You can't be a daredevil. Understood?"
"Please! I was designed for speed, all us 115s were!"
"That's no excuse for potentially killing your passengers."
"Nothing. Happened."
"It could've happened, idiot! What if someone died? It would be YOUR fault"
Their argument continued each time they saw each other during the day. By nightfall, Dante ended up in Crovan's Gate, in a huge bit of irony, and the only siding available to sleep in was the one next to the Skarloey Sheds. The two narrow gauge engines made their feelings on his antics fully known.
"You're an imbecile!" growled Skarloey.
"Ah, what do you know, slowcoach?" snorted Dante. "You're way too small to go fast."
"I make up with wisdom. And such you need."
"Wisdom?! You're living in the past: nobody wants wisdom anymore!"
"On the contraire," said Skarloey. "The more wisdom you have, the less screwups you'll have. Common knowledge actually."
At that moment, Olive passed the station with the Night Owl, a named train service that connected at Kirk Ronan with an overnight ferry to Dublin.
"Hey…What was your name… Clive!"
Olive was furious.
"NOT MY NAME!"
Dante had indeed much to learn. He eventually would become badass, but that's another story.