Olive had been doing any work she landed on ever since early 1923, even after being reassured by the Fat Director Gordon wasn't going to replace her. Her runs on the Wild Nor Wester were slowly becoming less and far between. That worried her, and she began to fear for her future once again.
One morning, she backed down onto a stopping train: Henry's illness had once again prevented him from building up steam. As she waited for the passengers to board, an unfamiliar voice called out.
"I say, is that a Great Western City Class?"
Olive looked to her left, finding a group of men wearing something that would probably be worn on a jungle safari.
"Uh, yes, I am," she said.
"Oh, how delightful: I used to travel behind you a lot during my days living in Plymouth!" the man said with excitement.
"Do I know you? I can't say I remember any of my passengers."
"Not you specifically," said the man, "but I have seen all of your class. Well, at least most of them." He then turned to the other men. "Gentlemen, I think we found our engine!"
"What exactly do you need an engine for?" she asked.
"Why our hunting party, of course!" the man replied. "I am Lewis Hampton, a world renowned Hunter, and I got a plan for everyone who can afford the 10 pounds entry fee. We were planning to go hunting around Cregwir, and now, we found the perfect engine to take us. Come on, gentlemen, let's head to Sir Topham Hatt's office: I'd like to arrange a private train for our hunting trip."
The men walked away, leaving Olive rather perplexed.
Olive's crew seemed very interested in a conversation about the Paris Olympics, especially when she called to them.
"Huh? Something you need, Olive?" asked her driver.
"Yes. Your help," she said. "Didn't you hear those hunters?"
"Sorry. I was cashing on my bets for the Olympics. Just yesterday, Harold Abrahams won 100m Gold. Your fireman actually bet for the French!"
"What's so special about the Olympics? I don't see what that has to do with railways," snorted Olive.
"Good way to make extra by betting."
"Whatever! Look, if you can do something to tell this gentleman… Where did he go?" she'd forgotten they'd already left.
The gentlemen were in the Fat Director's office discussing the private charter.
"Look, I understand your sentiment," said the Fat Director, "and I'll gladly provide you with an engine, but Olive won't do: she loves animals, and won't take kindly to you hunting them for fun."
"Come on! It's not for fun! It's juicy elk! From a controlled population! Those are bred to be hunted!" Mr. Hampton insisted.
So loud did he shout, Olive overheard that.
"Bred to be hunted?! Juicy elk?! What on Earth is WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?!"
"Calm down, big girl," said her driver. "They're hunters: it's what they do."
"You saying you do the same? SHAME ON YOU!" scolded Olive.
"And where is it said that we have to have the same thoughts as you?" asked her fireman foolishly.
"YOU…!"
"Alright, calm down! You're disturbing the passengers!" scolded the driver.
Olive later ran into Selena, who was rather enthusiastic about the hunting train.
"You heard? There will be a hunting train. I wish I could take it."
That infuriated Olive even more.
"Animals are not objects to take as targets of fun," she growled.
"You'll change your mind after trying out elk, or even beef. It's delicious…" The stationmaster stopped when he saw Olive glaring daggers: it felt like she was trying to pierce his soul.
"Come on, Ollie. You're overreacting," Selena said.
"Overreacting? OVERREACTING?! You kill for food, that's fine, but anything else…don't get me started with rhino horn medicine!"
"The hell is that?" muttered her driver.
"Exactly what it sounds like, jackass," snorted Olive.
"Geez, someone is feeling bitchy today," snarked the driver.
Throughout the day, each time Olive was at Tidmouth, Mr. Hampton kept trying to convince her to take his hunting party. She kept saying no, until, as she arrived with a late night express to Tidmouth, she had enough.
"WHY ME?! WHY DO YOU WANT ME TO TAKE YOU TO THAT HUNTING PLACE?! WHAT DO I HAVE OVER EVERYONE ELSE?! I…LOVE…ANIMALS!"
"You're a city class. That's why I want you to take the train," said Mr. Hampton. "Please, I love your class, nobody else is more fitting!"
She sighed, clearly tired of this.
"Mr. Hampton, my answer is and always will be…"
"YES!" said the driver. "How much will you pay us? We'll take whatever price you have to offer."
Olive couldn't believe what she had just heard.
"Is three-five thousand pounds enough? I have lots of money to spare."
"Certainly! All we need to do is speak with Sir Topham Hatt and all will be resolved."
Olive was so angry, she had no words. When she regained them, however…
"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?! YOU KNOW I HATE PEOPLE HUNTING ANIMALS JUST FOR THE FUN OF IT YOU JACKASS! WHAT KIND OF DRIVER ARE YOU?!"
"One who knows a good deal and doesn't turn it down," he said. "He's rich and is paying us good money. Why, with this, I can finally retire from the railway and move to America where I can build a casino!"
Olive was at a loss for words once again. But the fireman wasn't.
"Money?! You're putting money over our engine?! What the hell is wrong with you?!"
"The question is, what's wrong with YOU," the driver responded. "With that kind of money, we'll be rich. Never again will we be stuck working on a locomotive."
"You got some nerve saying something that can easily be considered hurtful," scolded the fireman.
"Listen here, Brandon," said the driver, "sentients do not have feelings: they're not people, they are machines built to transport people and goods to and from one destination to another."
"I've worked with Olive many years and I can tell you for sure, she's more than just a machine," the fireman argued.
"Then you can stay here and enjoy your low-paying job," snorted the driver. "Me, I've got to get home and tell my wife all about this."
And with that, he skipped away. The fireman sighed.
"Sorry about that, Olive," he said. "Jackson's always been trying to think of ways to get rich. And to be honest, I've no idea why: he's got a great job, he shouldn't need to worry about money."
Olive still said nothing.
When she ran into Thomas at Knapford, however, she burst.
"CAN YOU BLOODY BELIEVE THIS?! MY DRIVER JACKSON PUT MONEY OVER ME!"
Thomas's funnel ringed from the noise.
"You could shout quieter, you know!" he snapped.
"I FUCKING WON'T! THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS! DRIVERS ARE SUPPOSED TO TREAT THEIR ENGINES LIKE EQUALS, NOT LESSER BEINGS! ALL HE DOES…"
"ALRIGHT, I GET IT!" Thomas shouted. "Look, I know how you feel: not all of my crews treat me as well as Conan does. In fact, I too have had a few who only saw me as a machine. The thing is, why did he put money over you? That's most certainly unusual."
"A hunting trip. In a few days, I'll have to take a rich hunter to hunt some beautiful elk. If it's for food, which I hope, then at least it'll be for something…if it's for fun, on the other hand…" Olive began growling, which spooked Thomas.
"Geez…calm down, will you?"
Later on, Thomas commented the story to TKE #2 and #3, with Noah overhearing.
"I don't understand why some crews fails to see us as sentient beings," snorted TKE #3. "How can that be possible considering the fact we can talk?"
"That, and the fact she's been made to take a train she didn't want to," said Thomas. "It's not even the Fat Director's fault either."
"Hopefully, he'll be able to do something to dissuade this," said TKE #2.
As she spoke, the Fat Director was indeed trying to do something about it. He tried calling Jackson, who had clocked out earlier than he was supposed to, but only his wife answered.
"Sorry, Sir, I'm afraid he won't come to the phone: he's too busy obsessing over that money," she said. The Fat Director could tell she was feeling exasperated.
"Why is he so obsessed with that money?" he asked.
"My guess, he wants to be rich. All I really know is he loves money more than me. "
The Fat Director thought about it. right now, he's performing a money-version of the can-can.
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," said the Fat Director. "Mainly because I've no idea what to think about it. Have you tried telling him money isn't everything?"
"Several times," said the wife. "But each…OH COME ON, THIS!"
"What's going on?" asked the Fat Director.
"My husband just brought in two other girls! I'll call you back after I kick them out and knock some sense into him!"
The phone went silent after that. The Fat Director facepalmed as he hung the phone on his end.
"I really hate people who cheat on their spouses," he said. "Now how do I dissuade Mr. Hampton from renting out Olive for his hunting party?"
Next morning, however, the announcement was somehow in all newspapers, specifically referring to Olive several times.
"Son of a…how'd this happen? I didn't approve of this!" the Fat Director exclaimed in fury.
Olive wasn't pleased either, but Jackson was.
"Come on, Olive! Time to get going! Mr. Hampton's waiting for us and we need to be ready!"
"I won't!" Olive snapped. "You know how I didn't want this!"
"Rubbish! Everybody wants to make money!" insisted Jackson. Brandon refused to help fire her up and Olive refused Jackson's attempts to steam her: her fire kept going out. At last Jackson lost his patience.
"If neither of you do what I want you to do," he said, "I'll grab some dynamite and blow you both up with it!"
"Oh no you won't!"
The Fat Director tapped him on the shoulder, furious.
"You've no right to threaten my engines to do what you want them to do," he said. "Just for that…" But he never got to finish his sentence: infuriated, Jackson grabbed the Fat Director's throat and began strangling him
"DON'T YOU DARE STOP ME FROM GETTING RICH!" he shouted. The Fat Director, thinking quickly, punched him on the nose. Undeterred, Jackson grabbed a discarded shovel and whacked the Fat Director on the head, knocking him out.
"Right, if you don't want that to happen to you," he said to Brandon, "you'll fire up Olive right now."
"Fine!" shouted Brandon. "But you'll pay greatly for this." Jackson, satisfied, climbed into the cab.
"That man's going way too insane for this railway," said Olive. Brandon could only nod in agreement.
Once Olive was fully steamed and turned around, she collected the Pullmans and took them to the platform.
"Ah, my love! How are you today? Feeling well?"
Olive said nothing: she just gritted her teeth and growled, making her discomfort known.
"Don't be so unhappy. You'll make a nice share from this. A new tender just for you."
Olive sighed.
It was a rather slow journey: Olive didn't want to be there, and she went slow on purpose. Nobody seemed to mind, however.
She ran into Cassie at Killdane, surprised to see HER of all engines there.
"Why are you here? And with Pullmans?" she asked.
"I could ask the same of you," said Olive. "Shouldn't you be on the Cregwir Line?"
"I was asked to assist on the Peel Godred Line for the summer," Cassie answered. "An engine from the LMS has been called to handle my workload there."
"Uh-huh. How's Whiff been? Is his smell gone?"
"Not yet, but it has proven useful," said Cassie. Before Olive could reply, one of the electrics pulled into the branch line platform.
"Hey, you," said the electric. "You got passengers for me?"
"No, I don't," responded Olive.
"Botheration! The connection is late!"
"That's all you're worried about? Your connection? You do realise there are other things to think about," Olive pointed out.
"ESPECIALLY regarding trains being arranged without permission," said Lord Harwick. The engines couldn't believe who they were seeing!
"My lord! Oh, my lord! It's so wonderful…"
"Spare me the theatrics, Olive," said Lord Harwick. "I need to have a word with your driver, Jackson Gobsmacker, regarding his assault on Sir Topham Hatt."
"Why…I've no ide…"
"Stow it!" ordered Lord Harwick. "Witnesses saw all, and one in fact informed me."
"What's going on?" asked Mr. Hampton, stepping out of the coach.
"What's going on," said Lord Harwick, "is your special will be delayed until further notice. Mainly because the driver of this engine assaulted our Managing Director Sir Topham Hatt and forced this engine and her fireman to comply with taking your train."
Mr. Hampton was furious! He stormed into Olive's cab and the sounds of a scuffle were heard. Brandon had stepped out of the cab before Mr. Hampton entered. The sounds stopped when Jackson was thrown onto the platform, landing on his face. Mr. Hampton stormed over to him, and held a food over his head.
"Consider your payment…cancelled," he said with a growl. Then he turned to Lord Harwick. "I must admit, I myself have something to confess too."
It would be learned from this that Mr. Hampton had paid the newspapers to publish the story in the papers to force Olive to take the train.
"Olive, my darling. I understand if you don't want to take us there. I'm sorry for forcing you to go through with it, I see now I was selfish to do so. If you don't want us to carry on, I completely understand."
Olive thought about it, before opening her mouth to say something that marvelled Mr. Hampton.
"Just this once, I'll be happy to take you hunting," she said. "Though I will need a new driver, for Jackson doesn't seem to be in the best shape."
"I'll take care of that," said Lord Harwick. "Not really doing much today anyway. I could use a little break."
And so it was arranged. This time, Olive gave no trouble as they arrived at Vicarstown. She sped as fast as possible under the law while she climbed towards Cregwir. Lord Harwick was impressed, especially as Olive managed to reach a dream speed.
"What?! I reached 100 miles per hour?!"
"Yes. I am most impressed by that."
Despite the fact she didn't like the idea of hunting, Olive had to admit, this had been satisfying.
What she didn't expect was to see Conan's brother hunting alongside a man with a racoon cap.
