London was never a quiet place, but when it came to the railways, the capital city of England was loud as ever, with trains coming in and out. Diesels purred around with their trains, goods or passengers. Even at night, the trains still kept coming in and out.
That was why a locomotive moved around the yards, silent as he could be. His size could be quite noticeable, but he tried to be discreet. As the smaller steam engines followed him carefully. "Careful," he said, as they hid behind some vans, "anyone could be watching."
"Oh really?" scoffed a tank engine, "because we aren't acting suspicious at all."
"Shush Hubert," said another engine, "Papyrus can get us out of here safely and you're risking it to be a sarcastic imbecile."
"You can get us out, right Papyrus?" asked a third tank engine.
"Hopefully," smiled Papyrus, "I've done it several times before, but we mustn't worry too much, let's just focus on getting out here."
Papyrus was considered a legend by the engines, one of the big A3 Pacifics that went over 100 MPH, Papyrus was estimated to go to 108 MPH, faster than his brother The Flying Scotsman. But he was not getting more well-known with engines trapped in London, and he managed to sneak a few out every month or so away from the Warclaws that lurk in the nighttime.
The large A3 Pacific looked around carefully, scanning the darkest corners. "Alright, all is clear, follow me as quietly as possible," he said.
The A3 then moved out of the yards and headed straight down the line, the tank engines following him carefully. They were heading slowly through the city's line until at last, they were exiting London. "Good work," winked Papyrus, "we're doing well."
The tank engines smiled, even the one that was rude earlier gave a relieved smirk.
"Steam engines escaping!" yelled a diesel from out of nowhere and blew their horn loudly.
Papyrus' eyes widen in shock and he looked to see a diesel in the darkness, sitting idly by itself, it sneer at them as it watched them go by. "Hurry!" he called, and he picked up the pace, "the Warclaws will be coming for us!"
The tank engines yelped and ran behind Papyrus quickly. "Blasted diesel," said the rude tank engine, "I would love to ram it into a burning fuel tanker!"
They began to quicken the pace as they exited the city, Papyrus huffed. "There's the route!" he called. The points were set for them to race over and head to another station that was very active during the night. But as the A3 looked up ahead, he glared in horror as he saw two red dots coming straight towards him through the night on the other track.
"HURRY!" he cried, "THE WARCLAW IS COMING! GET TO THE POINTS!!"
Papyrus puffed hard, he looked back, fearing for the tank engines behind him, they were puffing their hardest, but couldn't match the Pacific's speed. They wobbled and wheezed as they went as fast as they could. The points got closer and closer, and so did the Warclaw. Papyrus' breath quickened as he realised what was going to happen.
"COME ONnnnN!" he shouted, his voice breaking slightly at the end, "HURRY!"
He swerved on the points and begin to travel down the other track, he glanced back in fear. "Are they following?" he called to his crew.
His driver looked back into the darkness and his eyes widen. "Oh good lord no," he said.
Papyrus got scared for a moment, but before he could even demand an answer, he heard the sounds of metal hitting metal, the crunch of something going straight into something more delicate than itself, and the sounds of the tank engines crashing into each other and falling on their sides was heard and echoed through Papyrus' mind as the Warclaw rammed it's claw into the first tank engine's smokebox just as it came over the points. The Warclaw, unharmed, began to brake, but the explosion of the first tank engine came with fire and destruction, with it destroying the rails and all tank engines' lives as their crews ran away in fear, cuts, and bruises on them only.
Papyrus began to slow down, his breath was heavy. What on god's railways just happened? Did he just hear the deaths of the tank engines? Did he fail?
"Papyrus!" called his driver, snapping his engine out of his thoughts. "We've got to pick up the pace!"
"Y-Yes, you're right," said Papyrus, but as he did so, going further into the night and away from the city nights and fire behind him, he couldn't help but curse loudly as the guilt ripped through his body. He thundered off down the track, leaving the pile of engines to burn at the junction.
His failure.
***
Trains continued as usual to the mainland, but there was a certain darkness at Barrow when Gordon would always bring his express service. The usual change-over was still there with the facilities for the North Western were still in service with a few sheds, a water tower, and a coal hopper. The big engine would always scowl disapprovingly as he pulled into the station.
There were no engines.
Diesels only lurked in the yards and rumbled by with their respective trains. Steam engines were few and far between here nowadays. Gordon hasn't seen a steam engine come to the station from another region in ages. Gordon stopped at the platform he usually goes in, a deltic diesel sat on the other platform, waiting for the express train to arrive so they could take it themselves to London. Gordon didn't even look at the diesel. Dirty things, he would always think to himself as he would puff off to the sheds and fuelling station without a single word to the diesel, who would just watch Gordon with a suspicious look on their face.
Gordon kept his fierce scowl as he moved to the water tower, his crew topped him off and he waited impatiently until his return train was ready. He eyed the diesels who shunted the coaches, Pug and Lina were long gone. Lina left first, running off in the middle of the night, Pug wouldn't say anything about her disappearance, but Gordon knew that the saddle tank engine was hiding something. Henry had theorist that she left for Thesang and Pug refused to go. The next week, Pug was sent away to the scrapyards. Which one, he did not know. The diesel shunter pushed his coaches into place and rolled oily away, Gordon watched it with suspicion, what was that diesel thinking? Is it happy he made an engine run and an engine die? Is he proud of what he caused?
A honk came out of nowhere causing Gordon to jump out of his thoughts, he glared over to the source to see a diesel next to him, rolling in, no sound from its engine but the face it gave looked like it was exhausted and in pain. But they gave a slight smile to the big engine, Gordon recognised the design, one of its brothers was on the branch line that was Edward's, but right now he was away and had not yet realised he was being replaced by the ugly things.
"Morning," coughed the diesel, he then gave a small scoff of a chuckle, "or is it midday already?"
Gordon only stared at the diesel, not saying anything, his brow slowly crinkled as he examined the diesel. The diesel felt the cold, unwelcomed stare from the big engine, but he still continued. "You're a... Fat Controller's engine... aren't you?"
The time struck for Gordon to leave and he did without saying another word to the diesel, leaving it in a cloud of steam. He didn't bother looking back to see his reaction, only caring to get back to Sodor, back to a place where there were no engines replaced.
***
Gordon returned to Sodor with his express train, on time as always when stopping at the platform at Tidmouth. The passengers all got off and walked away to leave the station to finish the remainder of their journeys. Gordon laid still, he then noticed something at the corner of his eye. A newspaper stand always stood close to the platforms at the end of the station, the engines could always see the headlines, and what Gordon could see something haunting.
"ENGINE MASSACRE OUTSIDE LONDON"
"Driver, what's this about an engine massacre?" Gordon asked, "on the newspaper stand over there."
His driver went over and hesitantly paid and picked up the paper. He looked at it briefly and went into the cab. "Best we shunt the coaches first old boy," he said, "then we can take a look at it."
The big engine puffed away from the station, pushing the long train over the junction, and then placed them into the coach shed. He stayed there though, with his crew coming to the front of him, the paper still in his driver's hand.
"You sure?" he quizzed Gordon.
"Yes."
The driver sighed and began to read out aloud. "Three days ago, a disturbance occurred once again on the outskirts of London. As usual, the reports of the horrific sound were from the railway, where a Warclaw attacked another batch of engines in cold blood. There were only three engines but it has been stated that an engine was also trying to lead them out but escaped the onslaught. "60096 Papyrus" has been written down as missing as of this, it is presumed that the engine was the one that escaped."
"Papyrus..." said Gordon, he looked a little alarmed, "my brother... he's missing?"
"That's what it says here," replied the driver.
"My brother is in peril!" Gordon cried out, "I—I—I must go to London!"
"You are not going to London," huffed his driver, "you're needed here, besides, remember when Edward left and how furious the Fat Controller was? I don't want that on my shoulders."
"Indeed he did, but the Fat Controller understood why Edward did it," replied Gordon, "he hasn't demanded Edward to come back, never did. The Fat Controller won't be pleased, but he will understand."
The driver folded his arms disapprovingly. "Please Sean," Gordon pleaded, "this is my blood brother we're talking about. I've known him ever since he came out of Doncaster, I need to protect him and get him to Thesang or back here!"
The driver shook his head briefly but groaned loudly. "We'll ask the Fat Controller first, then we'll discuss going behind his back if he doesn't allow us to go to London."
A small sigh of relief came to Gordon, that was at least something.
***
James looked over at Gordon, who sat at the platform in the early morning. The big engine stared out onto the open line, looking hesitant, his full express ready to follow him no matter what.
"I can't believe he agreed to it," the red engine said, "after Edward left, I was sure he wouldn't allow any of us to go!"
Gordon huffed. "Well, he did for me," he replied, the big engine then looked over to James, "I will be going and I do know how long I will be gone. But just know this, I will return."
"And with your brother no less?" asked James.
"Yes," said Gordon, "I will, either he stays here on the railway, or he will be sent to Thesang by ship or be preserved. But if he comes here, he will be safe from the cutter's torch."
The big engine then heard the footsteps of a familiar person and he looked to see the Fat Controller walk up alongside him. He smiled, nodding with approval. "Be careful out there Gordon," he said, his tone dark and with the utmost seriousness, "the mainland is not a place you remember, it is quite different now. There are practically no more steam engines running and only diesels.
"Yes sir," replied Gordon, "I will be careful, and... thank you for allowing me to do this."
The Fat Controller nodded. "You would have done what Edward did," he said, with a small smile on his face, "if I cannot stop you, I might as well help you. Now, I hope for the journey to be smooth and well kept to time, and good luck."
With a tip of his hat, the Fat Controller began to walk away back to his office. "Thank you, sir," Gordon said, he then looked out to open stretch, his wheels were stuck in place, anxious to get moving, knowing he could very not be coming to this station for some time or even at all. After what seemed like an eternity, the guard finally blew his whistle and waved the green flag, the signal was green for the big engine to go, and with his wheels turning, Gordon left the station, and began his long journey to London.