Tornado, The Young Peppercorn

Chapter One

Flying Scotsman was woken from his rather pleasant dream by a voice at his smokebox.
"If you want to meet them, you best get going."
"Hm? Who?" Scotsman mumbled sleepily.
Mallard rolled his eyes. His cousin was an idiot even at the best of times but this was an all time high,
"The young peppercorn? Our latest cousin?" He prompted.
Scotsman's eyes widened, any remnants of sleep departing at topspeed. His driver and fireman had barely got his fire going by the time the A3 started.

Of course, Tornado! How on earth he had managed to forget, he'd no idea.
"Steady on, old boy!" his driver, Jason, called from his cab as Scot put on a burst of speed.
"Aye!" his fireman, Will, an actual Scotsman, added slowing his shoveling, "Ye'll blow a valve or two!"
Scotsman blushed, "Sorry. It's just- what if today is the day?"
In his cab, he sensed Jason and Will exchanging looks. They knew what that meant. What if they had completed the young peppercorn today and they woke up?
Nobody knew an engine's gender until they awoke and all felt it too harsh to call them an 'it' until they were awake.
"Dinnae get yer hopes up, laddy." was all Will said.

Scotsman could hardly bear to look at the works. He had been waiting for what? Fifteen years now? Yet, he was greeted by an engine but not an A1 peppercorn Pacific; a Gresley A1 Pacific.
"Gordon?"
Gordon's eyes flicked from the works in front of him to his brother, "Hello, Scot." he smiled, "Glad to see you back on the rails again."
Scotsman huffed a laugh, "I'm glad to be back on the rails again! Those ten years were boring!"
"You were asleep!" Jason exclaimed, "How could they have been boring?"
The A3 said nothing. Or rather, he had no time to say anything. A worker burst from the building in front of them
"They're-" she panted, pausing for breath, "They're waking up!"
The enormous doors meant for engines were heaved open by Scotsman's and Gordon's crews and the two engines puffed in, uncharacteristically tentative.

The first thing she registered was the amount of people around her. They were cheering. Whatever for? The next thing was the two engines in front of her. One was a bright blue with a large, yellow four on his tender; the other was similarly shaped but with smoke deflectors, an apple green livery and two tenders. The crowd fell silent.
"Hi!" She called to the two engines excitedly.

Tornado had soft facial features with a rounded noise and freckled cheeks which dimpled when she smiled. Scotsman was unable to help the tears pricking his eyes. He had been waiting for so, so long. He and Gordon both had. He highly doubted that their A4 cousins were patient for her to be completed, even if they didn't exactly show.
Scotsman and Gordon exchanged watery smiles.

"Hello, young one," the blue one said softly in a deep voice, "My name is Gordon and this is Flying Scotsman."
The one he called Flying Scotsman rolled forward, "We have been waiting for you for such a long time."

She mentally noted their size,
"Am I as big as you?" She asked eagerly.
"Yes, yes you certainly are, Tornado!" Gordon smiled as a tear rolled down his cheek.
"Flying Scotsman said I'm an engine." she was confused.
The two engines in front of her chuckled, a fondness coming onto their faces.
"Tornado is your name." Gordon's laughter subsided.
"Oh!" Tornado understood now but she still had questions, "Do I look like you two?"
"Sort of. We were built Gresley A1s, my dear, before most of us were converted to A3s. You however are a peppercorn A1, our class being your own's predecessor." Scotsman explained with a smile.
"Why was everyone cheering when I woke up? Don't people buid engines everyday?"

Flying Scotsman exchanged looks with Gordon.
"Sorry! Did I ask a bad question?" Tornado squeaked nervously.
Flying Scotsman smiled kindly, "Of course not, little one, that's just a question we weren't expecting."
"Yes, you're just the first steam engine to built in a very long time." Gordon added.
"But why?" Tornado raised an eyebrow.
"Well, a long time ago, people stopped making steam engines became they liked diesels better; now though, people think steam engines should be made once more and here you are." Gordon willingly left out the scrapping, she was just a few minutes old and need not know the horrors and trauma of the scrapyards.

Hang on, Flying Scotsman had said they were the A1s made before hers. The peppercorn A1s? Did that make them family?
"Are you two my big brothers? Because you're A1s too!"

Yes! That was the question that Gordon and Scotsman had been waiting for! Both found it remarkably hard to speak past the lumps forming in their throats.
"Yes, Tornado," Scotsman choked out eventually, "Yes, we are."

Unbeknownst to anyone else, a skim workman slipped out of the sheds and crossed the yard, being careful to not bring any attention to himself. Just around a corner with old, abandoned trucks and carriages was a large engine.

The engine's dome was a bright gold and his funnel was rimmed with gold. His paint was a royal green. His side plate read Clun Castle.
"She's here, boss. We can start work," the workman said with a grim smile.
"Very good, Jeremiah," he replied in an oily voice, "Very good, indeed. We'll just remove LNER and NRM from the picture and she's ours for the taking!"