15 - The Lady at Waverley Station
Union notably avoided the Australian Engines as the Bluebell Gala went on. She'd gone to corner the diesel, Gold, only for the large diesel to lash out and charge her when she tried to be snide with them. Frightened, she had fled, almost bumping into Camelot who swore at her loudly. Moments later, the Green Pacific, Grey, seemed to appear out of nowhere and chased her into a shed while cursing her out, the entire ordeal witnessed by some of the other engines who laughed at her.
She was furious. She was supposed to be the star of this gala, not these, these ugly foreign engines! She was the sister of Mallard! Mallard! The most glorious steam engine to have ever been built.
With Mallard now gone it was up to her to uphold the legacy of the most important steam engines in the world! Not like Spencer or Sir Nigel did anything of the sort, consorting with lower classed engines and calling them friends.
"Get out of the way you silly toaster!" the class 09 diesel snapped at her rudely as he brought several coaches for a train he was shunting into place.
"How dare you speak to me like-" Union spluttered indignantly but the diesel paid her no heed. They had become bold now, the foreign engines had made them rebellious.
"Yeah alright shut up already ya, over-pressured hussy," the diesel snapped back and Union looked like her boiler might burst, her face going beetroot red.
The LNER A4 was about to explode in anger when she suddenly saw the Australia Diesel trundling down the line past them, making its way to the station. Somehow the foreign engines had befriended every single engine on the railway. It rankled Union's rivets and made her furious but she was determined not to spoil her reputation internationally.
That and they had proven themselves to be nasty and brutish, not afraid to pick their fights if need be. Union did not want to be damaged by such uncouth and feral engines. How appalling they were, violent, rambunctious and no class, unlike British express engines.
The British prided themselves on 'intellectual' debate and cunning, unlike these savages from overseas. What an awful place they must come from.
"Hello Gold!" the Class 09 greeted them brightly and Gold gave them a small smile.
"G'day," they rumbled to them then glanced at Union who immediately avoided eye contact with them. "How are we?"
"Good, good," the Class 09 smiled at them. "Er, there's a man here to see you at the station, told me to send you his way if I saw you Gold."
"Cheers mate, appreciate it," Gold rumbled and went on their way without so much as a look back at Union who sat there fuming at being ignored. She went to take her anger out on Class 09 but found it resuming its work with a happy toot of their horn and a cheery smile.
"Have a nice day Ms Union!" they called which only proved to make the A4 even angrier. She would not be ignored.
But to her dismay, she was.
Gold found Thomas, Stepney and Grey all milling around the station, chatting and laughing as rail enthusiasts milled around and took photos of them. Grey was surrounded by a group of curious locals and people peppering her with questions. Thomas and Stepney were happily chatting away until they heard the rumble of Gold's engine.
"Gold! Hello!" Stepney cheered as he saw the diesel approaching them, "Have a good rest in the sheds?"
"It was alright," the Diesel smiled, "I was told to meet a man here."
"That's right!" A voice called and a man in a purple three-piece suit waved at them from the platform. "Greetings my dear fellow! I'm Terry Ash, I'm a coordinator at Shildon Locomotion!"
These words meant very little to the Australian diesel who just stared at him blankly. Terry cleared his throat and his cheeks turned red slightly as he gave a nervous chuckle.
"Yes well," Terry continued, "I'm here on behalf of Deltic DP1-"
"DP1?!" Gold suddenly shouted. "As in, the Deltic?! As in sky blue, white racing stripes Deltic?! That Deltic?!"
Terry chuckled. "That's the one! He's invited you to come and visit him and show yourself off at the Locomotion exhibition in Shildon with all the other engines!"
Gold was speechless. They weren't anything special, they were just a silly diesel from Australia, whatever could he want with an insignificant thing like them?
"He was very excited to learn that a diesel was visiting from Australia," Terry informed them. "He's been pestering me to invite you to see him but I've not had the time. I found myself here at the right place and right time though!"
Gold barely heard the man, still reeling from the revelation that their hero had wanted to meet them.
"So, will you come back to Shildon with me my good fellow?" They heard Terry ask and Gold turned their attention back to him.
"Yes! I would love-" they paused, their attention caught by Grey sitting on the other side of the platform. Grey would be left all alone, there would be no one to help her if she needed assistance or had a breakdown. "I- no I can't, Grey needs me."
"No, no, Gold, you should go," Grey insisted with a genuine smile. "You should enjoy this trip as well."
"But what if something happens and you need me?" Gold implored. "I can't leave you."
"Please Goldie, I'm a big girl!" Grey puffed confidently. "I can take care of myself! You go off and have a laugh with them UK Diesel's ay?"
"And besides, we can help Grey if she ever needs anything," Thomas declared and Grey beamed at him.
Gold was still unsure, however, and looked at their buffers nervously. Grey's beaming face fell and a look of concern appeared across her face.
"Goldie, look at me," she called to her companion. The Class 42 looked up at their famous friend. "I'll be fine. I want this trip to be for you as much as it is for you mate. You've been there for me for so long and I'm just grateful that you decided to come to the other side of the world with me. So please, go and have a great time."
Gold stared at Grey for a little while, still anxious about leaving her.
"Yer goin'," Grey insisted. "Or I'll feel like shit for keeping you from the opportunity of a lifetime ay?"
Well when she put it like that, they now had no choice but to go lest Grey feel guilty for stopping them from achieving their dream.
"I suppose you're right," they finally relented. They gave Grey a small grateful smile. "Thanks, boss."
"You go off and have fun with your diesel buddies, and don't let them snooty engines bully you!" Grey ordered sternly and Gold smirked.
"Course not, them wankers ain't gonna know what hit them if they try," Gold vowed and Grey laughed.
"We're a bit too much for them ay?" Grey winked at them and they both chuckled, the tank engines grinning to themselves.
Lode Star did not like King George V all that much, but she could see his intelligence and value in having him as a joint leader of the Great Westerns. He was very much beloved by the smaller engines, much like Truro however he was less stern which concerned her.
"What's that look for dearest Seren?" King George asked with a hearty laugh as he approached her, the Star class sitting in one of the berths, a snooty look upon her face. "Am I not up to your standard?"
Lode Star just narrowed her eyes at him.
"I do not approve of your 'soft' nature, you do not have the sternness that Truro has despite his… quirks," she huffed and King George just smiled.
"Oh I agree," he confirmed. "I have no interest in being a grouchy old fusspot like you. I doubt Truro ever did as well."
Lode Star glared at him now, displeased with his humorous quips.
"Can you please take this seriously?" Lode Star scolded the King Class but the goofy smile didn't leave the King's face. "Truro feels it appropriate to just abandon his post without so much as a warning and Mr Corbyn feels it appropriate to have you replace him!"
"Oh I don't think that's true," King George gave a frown. "For many years Truro has struggled with this position. I am very surprised that you haven't noticed at all. I think that reflects poorly on you, dear Seren."
Lode Star just humphed and looked away from the larger engine.
"I think Truro should have retired decades ago if I'll be honest!" Lode Star snapped. "He was owned by the LNER before some of us were even built! He only worked under the Great Western for a short while!"
King George frowned at his cousin. "It's been well known that you've disapproved of Truro's position for the longest time. But there is no need to be so judgmental of his personal attachments.."
"Isn't there?" Lode Star asked. "I've seen the way he flaunts around with those Gresleys! The way he 'simpers' around Scotsman! Truro used to be his rival, our answer to Scotsman! Now he goes around and 'mingles' with him and his nasty-"
"Lode Star please," King George cut her off. "First of all, Pendennis is Scotsman's rival, not Truro. Second of all, Truro is allowed to mingle with whomever he pleases."
"Ha! Pendennis is hardly a Great Western anymore since coming back from Australia!" Lode Star scoffed and King George gave her a disapproving glance.
"By that logic would you say that I am not Great Western Seren?" King George asked pointedly.
"You just visited America, you were invited as a guest," Lode Star dismissed casually. "Completely different! Pendennis Castle came back… he came back with that personality!"
King George just rolled his eyes. "He always had that personality, Australia just allowed him to be himself more, he's more confident now!"
Lode Star just stared at him with a sour look on her face. King George was simply unflinching in his resolve and grinned back at her. King George always did this, somehow deflected her points or made connections to unrelated dribble.
"Truro wasn't always so stern you know," He started with a wistful gaze. "Young Truro was rambunctious, disobedient and loud. Such a fun character, I miss the old days."
Lode Star scoffed and was about to retort when the sound of Truro's soft barking exhaust echoed throughout the yard and the City class slowly drew into them.
"Truro! Hello, my old friend!" King George greeted the City class who gave him a nervous smile. The old iron looked nervous and frightened which worried the King Class greatly, Truro was usually a blank slate, not letting anyone know his true feelings aside from those close to him.
"What's wrong Truro-" King George started to say but he was spoken over by Lode Star.
"Truro! This is most unbecoming!" She snapped at him. "You desert your position without so much as a warning in the middle of the night! I am extremely displeased!"
Truro just looked at Lode Star frustrated.
"For once Lode Star, I really don't care if you're displeased or not anymore," he explained bitterly and Lode Star looked offended. "I know you've never liked me in the slightest."
"Oh!" She made an offended gasp and glared at him. "You City Classes were always so uncouth and- and- and-"
"Lode Star that is enough," a voice called to her as someone climbed down from Truro's cab and made their way towards them. "Bear in mind that you can just as easily be replaced."
The man was quite tall, not as tall as Director Gresley, but it was noticeable. He wore a spotless deep green suit, a brown vest and embellished with golden cufflinks. He had a stern look to him but kind eyes, like Truro.
"Yes Mr Corbyn, sir," Lode Star intoned, her voice returning to a clipped and proper cadence. She ceased giving Truro a glare and returned to her professional, stoic stature. "I apologise for my tardiness."
"That's alright Lode Star, I just expect better from you," Mr Corbyn noted and Lode Star simply acknowledged him with a slight tilt of her frames. Satisfied, Mr Corbyn turned back to City of Truro.
"Truro has given me reasons for the abandonment of his post, these reasons are personal and I will not divulge them," he addressed all three engines present. "I have accepted them however and agreed to retire him from his post. He has chosen, King George V as his successor and I do approve that he would be the right choice for such a post. King George the Fifth, do you accept this position? To uphold the values and virtues of the Great Western Railway and be a role model for all?"
"I am honoured that the City of Truro has considered me for this position and I graciously accept all responsibilities that come with it, Mr Harris Corbyn," King George vowed, his voice booming, steadfast and strong.
"Sir I must protest," Lode Star cut in. "You have not asked me-"
"I am aware that you do not like King George, Lode Star," Mr Corbyn turned to address her. "But you did not like Truro at all either, according to my predecessor."
Lode Star quickly shut her mouth, not expecting to be called out by Mr Corbyn so bluntly.
The man turned to look back at City of Truro who was looking worn and exhausted.
"Truro has been suffering these past few years, do not think I did not notice you being passive-aggressive towards him," he scolded her and Lode Star seemed to sink down on her frames. "Truro was chosen to compliment your thoroughness, sternness and no-nonsense attitude with his kindness and compassion. King George was chosen for the same reasons."
Lode Star lowered her gaze to the floor slightly but refused to look away.
"Yes sir," she answered.
Truro gave her a friendly smile.
"For what it's worth, Seren, I always admired you," he praised. "You were strong in ways I never could be. I could never dress down an engine as you do. I am proud to have worked beside you for many decades."
Lode Star was touched despite herself. She gave City of Truro a small genuine small.
"Thank you, Truro," she blushed slightly. "I apologise for my earlier remarks."
"It's okay, I always knew you had kindness inside that raging firebox of yours," Truro gave a soft laugh. "I'm sure that you'll do fine without me."
"I will probably do even better," Lode Star puffed herself up on her frames and Mr Corbyn turned to admonish her but Truro just laughed.
"I have no doubt you will," he smiled humour in his voice.
"One thing," Lode Star suddenly frowned. "Many years I have asked yet you refused to tell me and it lead to my doubt of your abilities and my lack of trust in you. Your name, if you would so be inclined."
Truro's face fell and he looked away.
Lode Star took it as her answer. She felt insulted that even now after many decades Truro still refused to trust her with his name.
"So be it," Lode Star was glaring again now. "I see you really are a LNER sycophant."
Truro said nothing, only stared at the ground while Mr Corbyn gave Lode Star a warning look.
"I honestly wish I was," was all Truro said, not even defending himself. "That would have made my life so much easier instead of suffering through decades of pretending to care about the railway that abandoned me and didn't even think I was worth saving."
Truro said nothing more and reversed himself out of the private sheds they were in, not even stopping when Mr Corbyn tried to call him back.
Lode Star and King George just glanced at each other before staring at the doors where Truro had left.
Mr Corbyn and King George rounded on Lode Star.
"That was cruel and unnecessary, Seren," King George snapped. "Truro feels very betrayed by what the Great Western did to him. The only reason he is still here was because the LNER saved him, of course, he'd feel grateful to their railway."
"I agree," Corbyn nodded and frowned at Lode Star. "Do I need to consider replacing you as well Lode Star? This behaviour I would expect from Clun Castle, not you."
Lode Star paled and looked away, embarrassed. She did not want to be compared to that snotty little harpy.
"No sir, I apologise for my lack of tact," Lode Star apologised with a look of deep regret on her face.
All Mr Corbyn gave was a sharp nod of his head and quickly departed to find Truro.
"I ask that you not mention this to anyone. I do not want the other Westerns knowing I disgraced myself," Lode Star implored King George. The old King merely smiled at him and gave the Star class a polite smile.
"Your secret is safe with me dearest Seren," He smiled and Lode Star returned it. "I doubt Truro will say anything but you never know."
Lode Star frowned but said nothing more on the matter.
"I thought you were going to the Bluebell to transport that Tornado girl?" Lode Star quickly changed the topic.
"Ah yes well this is all very last minute and hasty," King George waved her off. "Shame really, would have loved to meet her."
Lode Star just gave a soft snort of disapproval but said nothing more.
"Do you know who's replacing you?" She asked instead.
King George looked thoughtful for a second before answering her question.
"King Edward II?! Why him?!" Tornado shrieked loudly, startling the sleeping P2 awake with a yelp.
"Tornado!" Charlie loudly shouted upon seeing her back in their sheds. "You're back!"
"Hello Charlie," Tornado greeted the baby engine, still angry from learning who was escorting her to the Bluebell. "I'm sorry for waking you, baby boy."
"It's okay Nado, I'm just happy that you're here," the P2 smiled at her and Tornado felt her anger melt away and the bright and happy innocence of her little brother disarming her.
"I'm happy to see you too Charlie," Tornado blushed. "Although, I wish I hadn't come back with a broken firebox."
"You broke your firebox?!" Charlie asked alarmed before he seemed to look back at himself and gasped dramatically. "I don't even have one!"
Tornado burst out laughing at that. It had been so unexpected. Charlie was a funny engine, she loved her little brother so much already. He was quirky and unpredictable.
"We'll get you one as soon as we can Charlie," Iain turned and smiled at Charlie who grinned from smoke deflector to smoke deflector. "Boiler to go with it too."
"Yay!" The P2 gave a childish cheer.
There was a brief moment where the air was filled with mirth before Tornado returned her attention to the matter at hand.
"Mr Iain, why can't Mayflower take me?" Tornado asked, annoyed. "King Edward II will just be rude to me, call me filthy and ugly like he did when I last met him."
"I have to go to Norfolk today, Lady Tornado," Mayflower explained regretfully. "I would take you if I could, but I have to be ready for a Rail Tour this weekend."
Tornado looked dejected and down at the ground. She liked Mayflower, the Thompson engine was sweet and made her feel happy in ways she's never felt before. She was confused, but she liked it.
"Your stay is fixed for now, but after the Bluebell Gala we're going to have to completely repair your broken stays, you're also overdue for an overhaul," Iain told her and Tornado paled in shock.
"No! I don't want to be taken apart!" She shouted, rattling her frames loudly in protest scaring some of the engineers away from her.
"Tornado, your boiler needs to be checked out, it needs to be made sure it's up to standard or it could explode," Iain warned her and Tornado stopped rattling her frames and looked scared.
She didn't want her boiler to blow up. There had been stories, Emily and Stephen had told her about engines that had exploded. She didn't want that to happen to her.
"We have to do these things to make sure you're okay," Iain urged her. "Be brave, like Charlie. Charlie is a very brave boy, aren't you Charlie?"
"Yes, Mr Iain! Mr Rooster says I'm the bravest boy!" Charlie proclaimed though he was a little less enthusiastic now, nervous about seeing his big sister, Tornado scared.
"You'll be okay Tornado, you've gone through this before, it'll be okay," Mayflower assured her. "It's something every Steam Engine has to go through. You'll be fine."
"It still hurts…" Tornado whimpered quietly.
"I know Tornado, but you'll be okay, we love you and we'll try to make it as painless as possible," Iain assured her. "For now, you enjoy your time at the Bluebell. They have some foreign engines visiting!"
"Foreign engines visiting?" Mayflower suddenly pipped up. "From where?"
"From Austria, I think? No, Australia!"
"Scotsman mentioned having friends in America and Australia!" Tornado suddenly perked up excitedly. "Did they come over to celebrate his birthday?"
"Yes, they did! It was all very last minute though, apparently the visitors only just got out of their own overhauls so we didn't even know they were coming till a few weeks ago," Iain mentioned. "Although there's also rumours of an American Engine crossing the pond later in the year to meet up with Scotsman."
"Oooo Scotsman's so popular!" Charlie squeaked. "I hope I'll be popular like him!"
"Do you know which Amercian engine?" Mayflower asked. "Scotsman has a lot of American friends."
Iain pondered thoughtfully.
"No one even knows if it's happening so your guess is as good as mine, Mayflower," he shrugged.
"Oh, I do hope it's 4501!" Mayflower suddenly gushed before she noticed everyone's eyes on her and blushed a deep red. "For um… no reason…"
"Yes well anyway, the engines from Australia expressed interest in meeting you Tornado," Iain quickly cut in. "You're well known over there in Australia?"
"Me?!" Tornado squeaked. "But, but I'm not famous! Not like Scotsman!"
"I'd say you're getting there, Ms Tornado!" Mayflower chirped happily. "Taking the world by storm!"
"A tornado is a storm!" Charlie yelled suddenly and Mayflower and Tornado laughed.
"Yes Mr Prince of Wales, a tornado is a storm," Mayflower giggled and Charlie looked at her, excited that the new engine he'd never seen before was talking to him.
"Who are you? You're pretty!" Charlie exclaimed and Mayflower blushed again.
"My name is Mayflower, young sir," she introduced herself.
"That's a pretty name!" Charlie exclaimed excitedly and Mayflower laughed as Tornado watched.
"You'll be alright Tornado," Iain stepped in to assure the Peppercorn. "As a plus, Ms Chloe will be travelling with you!"
"You mean Kestrel, my sister?" Tornado pointed out and Iain looked taken aback but nodded at her.
"Before you ask, we didn't know who she was until very recently," Iain quickly explained, seeing Tornado's eyes narrow. "We would have told you if we knew, but Chloe er… Kestrel had made a vow to keep her identity a secret, even to us. The only one who knew was Sir Nigel I believe."
Tornado looked dejected but understood.
"At least, she's alive," she finally said after a long while. "Secrets or not, she's alive! One of my siblings is still out there."
Iain smiled. "Yes, she is."
"But why King Edward II though!?" Tornado suddenly shouted remembering who was taking her to the Bluebell. "I hate him and his idiot brother! They're stuck up, snotty-nosed-"
"Actually King Edward II isn't so bad on his own, his twin brother is the nasty one," Mayflower suddenly interjected. "When they're together they're a couple of idiots. But if you get him alone, King Edward II can be quite lovely, the trouble is that he's always with his brother."
Iain gestured to the Thompson engine.
"Well there you go Tornado," he nodded. "And even if he is rude to you, I'm more than confident that you could shut him down."
Tornado looked at her buffers agitated.
"I suppose so," she finally said after a while and gave a brave smile.
The trip to Waverley hadn't been eventful. Only stations and fences lined with people hoping to catch a glance of him on his build day. He was honoured, he truly was. He appreciated everyone making the effort to take time out of their days to see him, a silly steam engine.
In all these years he still felt he wasn't anything special. Him putting on a brave face to please Great Northern, forcing his shy self to be charismatic, to be outgoing, to be… the flagship of the LNER.
He still never felt he deserved his place. That his place belonged to his sister Polly, or another of his siblings. Even Gordon!
Gordon was still doing express runs, still going stronger than ever. He was doing more hard work than almost every single other engine on the heritage circuit. Yet he'd only had a small celebration, mainly centred on Sodor. Nothing big like this where hundreds, maybe thousands of people had come out to see him.
Yet here he was, stealing all his brother's glory.
"Scotsman pay attention," a voice barked at him and Scotsman jolted out of his thoughts and looked over at the platform where the director of the festivities was bustling about, ordering people to and fro.
There were young dancers, a band, the usual bagpipe players and displays with his image on them. A celebration of him and his 100 years of existence.
He gave a sigh and put on his most charming and wide smile.
"Yes sir! Sorry sir! I was thinking about my brother sir," he admitted.
"Well stop that," the man scolded. "It's your birthday, you should be grateful, do not drift off!"
Scotsman inwardly sighed. He really didn't want to be here today. He wanted to spend his day with Truro or Gordon or even North. He hated this.
"Yes sir," he agreed in a defeated voice.
'Just get through it, then you can go back to the museum and be done with this,' he told himself annoyed as the media presence began to trickle through and push their flashing cameras in his face and asking questions.
He gave a wide confident smile and laid on the charm. He was good at it when he didn't want to be there. 'Fake it till you make it,' he remembered Polly telling him. In hindsight that had worked a little too well for him. It was effortless to him now.
"Hello, hello! Please stop pushing each other!" He called the bustling reporters as they tried to get in edgeways to talk to him. "There's plenty of me to go around, I assure you! Haha!"
Then came a barrage of questions that he'd been asked a million times over: What do you think Sir Gresley would think? Are you proud of your achievements? Why aren't you in apple green? Why did it take so long for your rebuild? What engine would you want to come back if they could?
Scotsman answered them all with a smile and some with a wink. But on the inside he was tired, he wanted to go home, to hang out with Bittern, to antagonise Pendennis and have a laugh with him.
He was answering all these questions autonomously until one particular question stumped him.
"Flying Scotsman, if there was one engine you could be with today to celebrate this momentous occasion, who would it be?" A female reporter asked.
The Scotsman didn't even hesitate despite the out there question.
"City of Truro," he proclaimed with a wistful smile.
The crowd around him suddenly began to mutter and become raucous.
"City of Truro? Did I hear that correctly, Flying Scotsman?" The woman asked and Scotsman narrowed his eyes at her.
"You heard me perfectly clearly and you know that," he dryly retorted.
"Excuse me but isn't Truro the one who claimed to beat the 100mph record before-" An uptight-looking man in a tweed jacket 'harrumphed' at him.
"I'm going to stop you right there!" The Scotsman cut across him. "Are records you people ever care about? There is much more to us than records! The City of Truro is my closest companion and I am tired of having people constantly try to put conflict between us! Our records don't mean anything to us now! We're old! We're tired! We're sick of people constantly bringing it up! Why can't you all just drop it and leave us in peace!"
Scotsman was shouting now but he quickly stopped and calmed himself, stopping himself from getting too wound up. The crowd around him had gone silent and was now watching him intently.
He focused on the reporter who had asked him the question.
"City of Truro makes me happy, he's everything I could ever want, he tempers my bad and enhances my good and I love him," he explained to her directly. "Is that enough of an answer for you?"
The reporter nodded with a small smile. "That was lovely, Flying Scotsman," she said and the Scotsman smiled back.
"I'm glad," the Scotsman smiled at her.
The other reporters suddenly began to bombard him with questions but Scotsman had had quite enough.
"No more questions please," he implored them. "I am quite done for the day and I would like to meet the public without you blocking their way! So please stand aside!"
Happily, the member of the board seemed to agree and began getting the station's hands to clear the media off the platform so that the public could finally approach him.
Some of the reporters protested while others went willingly. Scotsman didn't care, so long as they stopped bothering him.
Squeals of joy and delight greeted him and he looked over to find a class of a dozen schoolchildren rushing over to meet him. They waved and cheered for him, excited and jumping around like kangaroos.
He felt his previous irritation at the reporters fade into nothing as the children, all curious and filled with enthusiasm approached him. Some stared in awe, others waved at him and shouted greetings at him and a few others hung at the back, frightened of his huge imposing form.
"Settle down, settle down!" He tried to calm the little ones, noticing some of them straying dangerously over the large yellow line. "If you stray too close to the edge you'll fall off and hurt yourselves! I know you're excited but behind the yellow line please!"
A tall woman, with silver hair and a large floppy hat, quickly came along and ushered the children back behind the line before ordering them in single file.
"You heard the engine children, behind the line and in a line if you want to talk to Flying Scotsman," she ordered and something rumbled in Scotsman's boiler.
Somehow, he recognised this woman's voice, like he had heard it long ago but had since forgotten. It wasn't the same feeling when he'd see a railfan after many decades of meeting them again. No, this woman… she was unnervingly familiar.
"Um, hello Mr. Flying Scotsman," a young voice squeaked beside him on the platform.
His attention was quickly grabbed by a young man who had stepped up to him and Scotsman felt himself smile in response. Young humans were curious and sweet, it was always a pleasure to indulge their curiosity or their silliness.
One by one the kids asked their questions or wished him a happy birthday, some seemed scared and he made sure not to hiss steam that could frighten them further. As he interacted with the kids he felt his worries go away and he felt at ease in this moment. It reminded him of why he loved going to galas.
After they'd asked their questions, the group sang him a happy birthday, other bystanders joining in and it made the trip worth it. Even if he wasn't with his family at the moment, he did feel loved and welcome. Like he truly was the People's engine.
When they had finished, there was a cheer and the teacher that had been shepherding around approached him.
"100 years young you clever old man, well done. I hope you enjoyed my students' little song for you," she congratulated in that familiar voice. He hesitated and she noticed.
"What's wrong Flying Scotsman?" She asked and Scotsman seemed to shake himself out of his rudeness.
"I apologise, I very much enjoyed it, your students are all very talented and wonderful," Scotsman quickly resumed his charming persona. "But forgive me, ma'am, have we met before? You seem familiar."
"Did I leave such a fleeting impression on you Scotsman?" the woman asked and Scotsman just stared at her confused. "I am disappointed."
"I apologise," Scotsman regretfully answered. "I wish I could remember where I know you from."
The teacher waved a hand dismissively. "It's no trouble dear, I'm sure you've met a lot of people over the years, although I had been hoping you would recognise someone you worked with."
Saying nothing more, the lady quickly ushered the children away with a mysterious smile back at the A3 Pacific and a touch of her hat. With a swish of her dress, she and her class disappeared into the crowd.
Scotsman watched her go, brow creased in confusion until he suddenly noticed the shimmer of a soul around her. Ignoring the crowd gathering around him, he squinted at her, trying to see the woman clearly.
She had a silver soul, like that engine Tydfil.
Silver.
His eyes widened in realisation as he remembered who the teacher had been.
"Quicksilver."
"No one's been able to get a hold of Olivia Gresley for the past day ma'am," one of Ms Parson's bodyguards came up to her and the older woman frowned.
"Not even after I threatened to infect her precious Great Northern with Black Smoke?" The woman crossed her arms and a sour look appeared on her face.
"No ma'am, Aaron isn't answering his calls either so Director Gresley may have found him out," the bigger man informed her.
Jocasta Parsons looked ready to throw something at someone, her short temper rearing its ugly head once again. She gave a frustrated sigh and grunted annoyed before glaring at the man before her.
"Wait outside North's room, I have to fetch something!" She snapped at him and the man obeyed without question, returning to the small room where the strange man was being kept. Despite being told he was incredibly violent, the man had been nothing but pleasant and softly spoken.
He seemed nice enough and didn't seem to be bothered by the lack of food but had asked for more books to read in his boredom. There hadn't been much but William and Gary had managed to source a few books on flora and fauna and some old worn books they had no idea of the contents. The man, North, seemed to appreciate them even if they weren't the greatest.
Whatever was going on, it was their job to question the large paycheck the Great Western woman had promised them. They were hired security after all.
A few minutes later, Ms Parsons had returned, a large metallic security suitcase in hand, a somewhat malicious look on her face.
"Open it up," she gestured to the locked door and the men obliged.
North sat inside and barely looked up. He was used to the routine now, Ms Parsons would come in and try to intimidate him. North would just be completely unfazed and continue being bored in his tiny room.
This time was different, however.
Parsons motioned to the two guards and they quietly stepped forward grabbed North who sat in his chair and hauled him to his feet with no ceremony.
"I must protest!" North snapped, although he didn't struggle much against them, knowing he wouldn't win against their bulk and height. He was stoic and calm as usual, refusing to show much emotion and give this horrid old woman a victory.
Ms Parsons laid her suitcase on the desk and as soon as it opened, a noticeable cold chill filled the air and a lot of horror appeared over North's face.
"What are you doing? What have you done?!" He shouted at her, now resisting the two guards but they held him firm.
"I asked Olivia Gresley for an exchange," Ms Parson simply explained. "You for her Golden Whistle. If I hadn't received the Golden Whistle in 24 hours then I told her I would see what Black Smoke does to an engine that's bound to a human vessel."
North's eyes widened in fear and he immediately began to struggle as Mrs Parsons turned back towards the suitcase and began to use the canister of black smoke to fill a large syringe.
"It appears that I have no answer from Olivia Gresley so I guess we're going to find out what happens to North here," she ordered as North began to struggle violently against his captors. "Restrain him!"
North shouted in pain as both guards suddenly pressed down hard on his shoulders making his legs buckle beneath him and slamming his knees into the floor with a loud crack.
"Stop this!" He bellowed. "You have no idea what you're doing you insane woman!"
He was ignored however as Ms Parsons advanced on North, the guards wrestling to hold him in place, syringe in hand.
"NO! GET AWAY FROM ME!" North bellowed but an iron grip held onto his arms and legs, preventing him from moving as the wretched old woman injected the black smoke into the crook of his elbow.
North gave a strangled choke of pain and seemed to lose his strength and falter, his tense body suddenly going limp and slumping on the fall as he began trembling violently.
"No… please…" North croaked out feebly. He seemed to attempt to get up but his strength failed him and he collapsed back onto the floor.
Ms Parsons just watched North struggle with a slight sadistic grin, eventually waving her two guards to get off of him. They released him and he simply lay on the ground, trembling.
"Leave him," Ms Parsons ordered them and they quickly left. The woman leered over North for a moment. The vile woman then straightened up, brushed the dirt off her coat and walked out of the room with a crackle leaving North helpless and weak on the hard-tiled floor.
Union: *is an asshole*
Gold: Oi that bloody cat's in the backyard again!
Grey: *rolls out with the garden hose in combat gear* OI NONE OF THAT! SCRAM!