Thomas was moving some empty GCR corridor coaches into the station for the express. However, before he got underneath the canopy, the E2 bumped into a set of buffers!
"Wait a minute, there are no buffers here!"
"And who are you calling a pair of buffers?" asked an unfamiliar voice. The E2 pushed his coaches forward and steamed into the other platform. He suddenly found himself standing next to a large, green 4-6-2 tender engine. Behind the engine were some unusual-looking coaches that looked like huts to the E2.
"Henry? What are you doing here?" snarked Thomas.
"My name is Gordon, not Henry," the engine responded. "I am Sir Nigel Gresley's greatest experiment, the London and North Eastern Railway A0 Class Pacific! I've broken many speed records and hauled many express trains. Surely, you've heard of me? Everybody has."
"Aren't Pacifics all failures?" asked Thomas.
"Not me: I was built to perfection," boasted Gordon.
"Well, what are you doing in that platform? It's needed for the express. Also, what's with those yellow beach huts behind you?"
Gordon was furious!
"How dare you insult my beautiful teaks!" he shouted. "Only the finest wood goes into building these excellent first class coaches, the best coaches there are. It's only natural that I, the best engine here, take the best coaches with me."
"The best? More like the laziest," said Thomas cheekily. "All I've seen you do is stand around and look pretty."
"You watch what you say to me, little tank engine," said Gordon.
"Or else what?"
"Or else I'll have you sent away. I'm no barbarian, but I won't tolerate disrespect from little engines like you."
"Disrespect indeed!" snorted Thomas. "I've not seen you show me any respect, you fat green bastard!"
"How dare you call me fat!" Gordon shouted. "I swear, that number one you're wearing really makes you a nuisance!"
"Alright, what's all this ruckus?" asked the Fat Director, coming out of his office. "Ah, Thomas, I see you've met Gordon. He arrived early this morning."
"And how come I didn't see him?" asked Thomas.
"Probably because you were busy shunting," said the Fat Director. "I guess I forgot to tell the yardmaster to inform you of this. As for the coaches, Gordon insisted he take those teaks on his first run. Therefore, the coaches you brought in, move them to platform 3."
"Yes sir," said Thomas. He buffered up back to the coaches and did as he was told.
"What is the need for a combative attitude, Thomas?" asked Conan.
"You were there, you heard what he said," snorted Thomas.
"What I heard was an argument you could have easily diffused," replied Conan. "Of course, you'd rather die than apologise, am I right?"
"He started it," said Thomas. "Pretending to be a pair of buffers just to delay me."
Nothing Conan said would convince Thomas to back off. After moving the coaches, he steamed back alongside Gordon.
"Now THAT is hard work," boasted Thomas. "I don't see you doing any of that."
"Of course not: we tender engines are too big to shunt our own trains," said Gordon. "That's a job for small tank engines such as yourself."
"More like another excuse to be lazy," said Thomas.
"Oh, you think I'm lazy, do you?! Try going uphill during a storm, little one."
"The name's Thomas, I have a name too," snapped the E2.
"Well, little Thomas, I do work hard. Try taking a heavy train like this one. You'll be unable to start up."
The guard blew his whistle at that moment.
"Goodbye little Thomas!" called Gordon as he departed. "Look out for me this afternoon!"
Few minutes later, Olive entered the station.
"What was that? And why are my coaches in the third platform?"
"Oh you didn't see that big new engine? Along with some wooden teak coaches as you backed down? Apparently, he's the express engine now," said Thomas.
"WHAT?! A NEW EXPRESS ENGINE?!"
It was then that Thomas realised what he had said. Rather than admit his mistake, the E2 decided to take a chance to get Gordon back.
"Yes, a new express engine," said Thomas with an innocent grin. "Come all the way from Doncaster to replace you. The Fat Director bought him because he finds you way too old to keep up to the timetable now."
Olive was blowing smoke out her nose.
"I won't stand for this, I'll show the Fat Director I'm still fast enough, just watch me."
As she went for her train, Conan stared furiously at Thomas.
"What did you go and say that for?!" he scolded.
"Oh, come on! What could possibly happen? Besides, it'll serve Gordon right for calling me useless."
Conan slapped himself hard.
"Ow!"
"Serves you right, think about what could happen," said Conan firmly. Thomas just rolled his eyes. Conan climbed back into his cab, praying. They went back to work as Olive sat in the third platform, pondering what she could do.
"Wait a… Truro! I'll go over 100 miles per hour! If my brother could do it, so can I! It's genius!"
"Think clearly, girl," warned her driver. "How will you go 100 miles per hour on an 87-mile long mainline? City of Truro was going a much greater distance than that."
"I've got to try at least!" Olive shrieked. "I can't let that new engine replace me!"
"Let's try to be diplomatic first. If it doesn't work, then we can try the run. Sound like a deal?" asked the driver. Olive gave a reluctant sigh.
"Fine," she said. "We'll start with your way."
Olive sulked all day, even her usual favourite job, cattle trains, did not cheer her up.
Gordon, on the other hand, was enjoying his run: the island was beautiful, and he enjoyed speeding along.
"Hurry, hurry, hurry!" he called. soon arrived at Crovans Gate, where Skarloey was waiting with a passenger train.
"Hello there!" Skarloey called. "You must be new here." Gordon took a look at the narrow gauge engine.
"Never thought I'd see an engine so small," said Gordon.
"Size isn't everything, you know," Skarloey said knowingly.
"I fail to see how," replied Gordon. "Bigger engines like me pull bigger trains than those of smaller engines."
"That may be true," said Skarloey, "but can you say for certainty you could travel on my rails?"
"I have no need for that, mine are certainly enough."
"If you say so."
"I do say so, as does Sir Nigel Gresley," Gordon replied. "After all, he made me the best I could be."
"Best or not, Gordon," warned Skarloey, "nobody's perfect."
"Well, I'm not nobody, I'm me. I'll admit, I had some problems when I first entered service, but the men at Doncaster Works fixed all those, then put the A1s into service. Now I've come to this island to show how great I am!"
At that moment, Gordon's guard blew his whistle. The A0 puffed off, whistling proudly.
"Goodbye, Skarloey!" he called. "Look out for me this afternoon!"
Skarloey watched Gordon depart, giving a little chuckle.
"He'll learn," he said, to nobody in particular. "The youngsters always do."
Gordon couldn't help mulling over Skarloey's words as he steamed along the line.
"What does that engine know?" he asked. "He's only a little narrow gauge engine. A grand, fast engine like me already knows everything."
"Nobody knows everything," his driver said. "Especially not on their first day of a job."
"I'm not nobody, I'm me," snorted Gordon. "The fastest and best."
"You wouldn't be saying that if you met an engine who could go faster than you," his driver said.
"Nonsense! There'll never be an engine who can outperform me, unless Sir Nigel Gresley designed it" Gordon boasted. "I'm the newest in modern technology."
"Just you wait," warned the driver.
"I can't wait: I have an express train to pull! Now come on, more steam!"
The driver sighed and opened the regulator. Gordon responded with a will and began to go faster!
"Express coming through!" he shouted, as he raced through Maron. As he approached the incline, however, his driver took control and slowed him down. Not that Gordon minded. "Wheeeeeeeeeee!" he called, as he raced down and continued on through Wellsworth. His driver rolled his eyes, but didn't mind Gordon being childish for once.
Before long, Gordon pulled into Tidmouth, ahead of schedule. A great big crowd of people surrounded him. Gordon's interest, however, was on a certain emerald engine in the third platform, waiting to depart..
"Could she be… But… I thought she was scrapped…"
The engine took notice.
"Are you talking to me?" she asked.
"I most certainly am," replied Gordon. "I thought all Stirling Singles had been scrapped."
Emily then noticed the letters on his tender.
"You're from the Great Northern Railway too?!" she asked.
"Indeed I am, the best the Great Northern ever produced, so much so I was used as the prototype for all of Sir Nigel Gresley's A1 Pacifics. Do you happen to be the Single who won the Race to the North?"
"Indeed I do, for I happen to be her!" Emily replied. "My name's Emily, I've been working here ever since 1913."
"Well Emily, my dear, it must be an honour for you to meet your successor," said Gordon.
"Successor? What exactly do you mean by successor?" she asked suspiciously.
"Why, isn't it obvious? I'm newer, bigger, and more modern than you. I can go up to 90 miles per hour, while you're stuck at 85."
"Being modern doesn't mean…"
"And," Gordon interrupted, ignoring Emily, "I have water scoops inside my tender to pick up water from troughs, meaning I've no need to stop at a water tower to fill up."
"Okay. That IS impressive. Nonetheless…"
Dante interrupted her by barging into the station full speed, showering sparks all around.
"Watch what you're doing, Dante!" Emily snapped.
"Perfect! A tank engine! Take my coaches away," Gordon ordered. "I need to turn around and fill up on coal and water." Dante gave the A0 a glare.
"Who are you to tell me what to do?" he asked.
"The name's Gordon, and I'm the new express engine. So unless you want trouble, do what I tell you."
"You're beginning to sound like Lily," Emily remarked.
"Who," asked Gordon, "is Lily?"
"Another express engine on this railway from the Lancashire and Yorkshire," Emily answered. "She is currently out of action after being a victim of sabotage last August."
"Certainly not!" exclaimed Gordon. "Nobody would dare sabotage an express engine!"
"Well, that lunatic did," said Emily.
"What lunatic?" asked Gordon. "You know what, tell me later. Tank engine, collect my coaches at once!"
"I have my own coaches to take care of, sausage!" snapped Dante. "Take them away yourself!"
And Dante pushed the coaches into a siding.
"How rude!" exclaimed Gordon. He then spotted a green tank engine with a 4-4-0 wheel arrangement. The A0 whistled. "You there, green tank engine! Take my coaches away so I can turn around and refill my tender!"
The tank engine, Greeny, was about to retort, but the driver quickly called out, "Certainly! We'll be right over!" Greeny kept sulking as he took away the coaches.
"It was perfect! Perfect I tell you!" he shouted at his driver.
"I will not tolerate you trying to follow the orders of somebody who's now gone anymore," said the driver sternly. "If taking away the coaches means stopping you from going after Thomas, then that's what I'll have you do."
"Just you wait," muttered Greeny. "One of these days, I'll find a way to drive myself, then force you out of my cab."
"Good luck with that," said the driver. "You'll be a stationary boiler next week if you keep your attitude up."
John, rolling into the bay platform, had seen everything.
"At least that giant manages to keep Greeny in control better than I do," he remarked.
"Yes, but he doesn't really have the best attitude," replied Emily.
During this, Gordon had turned around and was now refilling his tender.
"Is all this extra water really necessary?" asked the fireman. "Seems to be too much if you ask me."
"Of course it's necessary!" Gordon snapped. "I was warned by Sir Nigel Gresley that this railway doesn't have water troughs. Thus, the more water I take on, the more I can travel without stopping. Then again, installing water troughs would be a good upgrade. I shall consult with whoever runs the railway when I return to Vicarstown. Now hurry up and keep filling!"
"Alright," said the fireman, "if you insist."
Gordon had certainly left rather diverse impressions on the railway: the people adored his speed and power, the engines weren't sure what to make of his attitude.
Later that night, Gordon entered the sheds, where the Fat Director was waiting, along with some of the other engines.
"Everybody," he said, "this here is Gordon, our newest acquisition. Some of you have already met him. For those that haven't, here he is now. The prototype Pacific designed by Sir Herbert Nigel Gresley."
"Why thank you sir," said Gordon proudly. "You know, I can't help but notice the lack of water troughs on this railway."
"I didn't know the LNER engines lived like pigs!" said Thomas cheekily.
"Don't be absurd, little blue bug!" Gordon snapped. "Rolling around in mud wouldn't be dignified!"
"The name's Thomas, I already told you, fat face!" Thomas snapped back.
"Well somebody woke up on the wrong side of the shed today," said Gordon. "Not that I'm surprised: bustling around the yards all day would tire anybody out."
"Alright, that's enough," Edward said, tired of all the arguing. "Welcome, Gordon, to the North Western Railway. My name's Edward. Now tell us, what exactly are these water troughs?"
"Water troughs, little Edward," said Gordon, "are special devices on the track that allow you to pick up water while you're running at high speeds. Saves the need to stop at water towers, it does."
"You make a good point, Gordon," said the Fat Director. "Unfortunately, I don't think our main line has anywhere to place a water trough. I'll gladly look for a place, but I can't promise anything."
"Can't beat geography, can we?" agreed Gordon.
Gordon proceeded to get acquainted with everyone else, mostly through boasting and putting the others down.
After some time, Olive arrived after taking the night owl to Kirk Ronan. Looking forward to a well-earned rest, she didn't expect to see someone else in her berth. Olive blew her whistle.
"What do you think you're doing sitting in my berth?" she asked. Gordon turned to her.
"What's a Great Western engine doing on these parts?" he asked.
"The name's Olive," the City-class replied. "Top-link express engine for this railway."
"Certainly not top-link anymore," Gordon said. "Especially since I'm here now. And I don't see your name anywhere on this berth, so who says it's yours?"
"I sleep there every night!" Olive snapped. "So move aside!"
"Listen here, you: I've had a busy day."
"I don't give a damn!" Olive cut in. "Listen here, Gordon: you may think you're great, but you've yet to prove it."
"I doubt I'd need to prove anything," Gordon boasted. "I'm already the best there is, Sir Nigel Gresley says so. And compared to the rest of you, I'd say that holds weight. Now run along, little Ollie, I need to rest after breaking every time record on this railway. You may not have been able to set any new records or standards for this railway, but I have. I am not only fast, but important"
"We'll see just how fast and important you are," Olive said darkly. She reversed away to find a siding to sleep in.
"Was it necessary to kick Olive out?" Edward asked Gordon.
"Kicked her out? Don't be so daft, little Edward! There are plenty of other berths, she could've chosen to sleep in one of those instead of running off."
Edward couldn't deny Gordon had a point!