The train traveled across England and as Gordon raced down the mainline towards St. Pancreas, he could only see a glimpse of what was happening to the steam engines around him as he thundered past stations and yards. Steam engines in British Railway colours of black and Brunswick green could barely be seen with the dirt and grime which covered their paintwork. Gordon never liked BR colours, he found them dull and uninteresting, but he couldn't help feeling sorry for the engines. Horrid paintwork or not, it was awful to be covered in muck and not be cleaned in days, possibly weeks. Gordon then felt incredibly lucky, he glanced at his nice, shining blue paint, bright and recently polished, and understood how the Fat Controller had managed to separate his region from the rest of the others and how fortunate they were for it too.
When reaching London, Gordon could instantly tell it was much colder than it was when he last came here a few years ago. The line felt dirtier and rough to ride on, the grey ballast had gotten darker, and the rails had more slip to them and were harder to grip on. Not much steam was coming out, bellowing up to the sky, instead, there were growls and rumbles of different beasts which Gordon was all too familiar with. The first encounter with a diesel was one waiting for a path with a goods train, leaving London, it stared at Gordon with an amused look in its eyes. The big engine ignored him and continued on down the line toward the station. The next was a whole bunch of them, all lined up, waiting to leave to do their work. They were a bunch of Class 08s, Gordon despised this class and eyed them, not trusting one at all. He continued through and at last, reached St. Pancreas station, all the passengers got off, they weren't going anywhere else after all, and Gordon watched them leave.
It was only a few minutes until he felt a sharp bump from behind.
"Oof," he winced, "what was that?"
His driver looked back and sighed. "Guessing they are replacing the shunters here with those diesels," he pointed out. Gordon looked back as much as he can, he could only see a glimpse of the engine, but there was no white steam forming around the engine. Instead, only small amounts of black smoke came out. The diesel dragged the carriages away, leaving Gordon on his own at the platform. The big engine continued to look around and only see coaches belonging to other diesel engines. Steam engines were so few here, it was disbelieving for Gordon to see nothing but diesels at this once lively station.
Gordon decided it best to leave the station and go and find the sheds, perhaps, a steam engine would be there, because right now, the last time he came to St. Pancreas, was not like this one. It felt like a force of darkness had covered this part of London with misery and fear. But Gordon must be brave, he must find his brother Papyrus. He had to. When coming to the sheds, Gordon noticed it to be just as dark as the station, no life could be heard, with no engines talking loudly and no wheeshing of steam bellowing up into the air. Gordon moved carefully into a birth of one of the sheds. He looked from the side, he had found steam engines alright, but they weren't the same as last time. They remained quiet, distant, and lonely. Gordon looked to the other side to see a class of engines he would not expect to see.
"Excuse me there," he said to the engine, "you're... an O2 class from the LNER?"
The O2 looked over to the big engine and blinked widely, shocked to see an engine so clean and bright be admits the coldness of the yard. "Who on earth are you?" he said curiously.
"I am Gordon," replied the big engine, "I am from the North Western Region on the Island of Sodor."
The engine peered at Gordon all over, looking quite baffled at his appearance. "So you're one of those engines from the books?" he said.
"Indeed," said Gordon, a small smile came across him, "and you are?"
"I'm... I'm Gregory," the O2 smiled back, "you're from what I see a modified Gresley A1."
"You mean A3?"
"No, modified A1," smiled Gregory, "you are modified, your valve gear shows that, but your smokebox isn't a superheater one. Meaning you aren't an A3."
Gordon was a bit surprised by this but then chuckled lightly. "Very good," he said, "that still makes us cousins, correct?"
"I think it—"
A sudden whistle broke out and both engines looked to see another O2 back into the shed. He looked more stoic than his brother and a little older as well. His brow was low and he had a bit of a pointy goatee on him. He stared coldly at Gordon.
"Are you going to introduce me to your... brother?" asked Gordon calmly.
"Oh yes, this Hector, he is my old—"
"Gregory, you know the rules," said Hector harshly.
"Yes, but this is Gordon, he's from those children's books, he won't hurt us," Gregory explained.
"But he's an A3, is he not? You know what happens when you make contact with an A3, look at what one of his brothers did to those tank engines the other day."
Gordon immediately perked up. "My brother? Do you mean Papyrus?" he asked, a little hopeful, "if you know where he is I can—"
"I don't know anything about Papyrus," said Hector, "all I know is he's dangerous to be around. He's probably long gone now anyway, now stop bothering me and my brother. We don't want any part of your little tour across Britain."
"I see your brother is pleasant," said Gordon, after an awkward silence.
Gregory said nothing for a bit, looking at his brother, then sighing deeply. "It is not safe here anymore," he explained, "no steam engine is allowed outside the city, and will be chased by Warclaws. They are beginning to care less about rules anyway, a couple of months ago, Euston experiences a grim message from them, with them showing their dead friends. I wouldn't be surprised if not many of them are around there now..."
"Gregory."
With that, the younger of the two brothers fell silent, not speaking to Gordon anymore. The big engine knew that the pair wouldn't say anymore, not unless he wasn't around. So it was best Gordon just ask for clues on where Papyrus was to other engines and workmen around the area tomorrow. Gordon's crew was preparing to put him to sleep, but as they were about to deal with the fire, an unknown man came walking up to them. Gordon was curious about him. He looked to be aging past his middle-ages with greying hair and an almost wrinkled face. He looked sincere and bold to be walking to Gordon, at this time in London of all places, not many people seemed to like to go near a steam engine.
"I am Inspector Howler," informed the inspector, he then glanced over to the two brothers for a short period, the other engines just looked away with no signs of looking back at him, "I need you to move over for a brief period, I just want to talk to you... privately."
"Of course, sir," said Gordon, the inspector only walked along the ballast, letting the steam engine pass him, but then caught up when the big engine had stopped, a good distance from earshot for the engines to listen.
"Did I do anything wrong sir?" asked Gordon, looking down at the inspector worriedly.
"Not one bit, Gordon," the inspector said, "that is... your preferred name correct?"
"Yes sir."
"Very well, Gordon, I only ask you to do a favour," said the inspector, "that is all."
Gordon smiled, he was surprised an inspector here would like a steam engine to ask for something like that, and if he did something like that would greatly please the inspector, steam engines here will be more well treated. "Yes sir," he said, "what do you want me to do?"
"The steam engines here are tense, unmotivated," explained Inspector Howler, "but they have been useful, and for their loyalty, they will be sent to the works to be repaired for another few years of service. They are allowed to go whenever, during the night preferably, and will be allowed anytime."
Gordon was a bit perplexed by this, his brow furrowed. "Certainly sir," said Gordon, "but why me?"
"They can trust you," said Inspector Howler, he sighed and looked over to the engines in the shed, "poor engines, but hopefully enthusiasts will save them. They have done a lot to save many engines across the network. Thank you, Gordon."
"You're welcome... sir," replied Gordon, he smiled back at the inspector as they trudged away back to their car.
Gordon reversed into the shed again, Gregory looked over with a raised eyebrow. "What was that all about?" he asked.
"That inspector says that you all can go to the works to be repaired and lengthen your stay in service due to your loyalty to the network," explained Gordon, "for whatever that means... after all... shouldn't they also say what dates or who goes? Or are they just not that bothered about it?"
A chuckle came from the corner of the shed and all looked to see another engine sitting in the corner. An old LMS engine sat in the corner.
"Name 's Jamison," he declared, "thank you for the message my bright friend, what foolish chaps they are, imagine doing such a thing of staying here!"
"I mean, you're sitting here, staying for the night yourself," retorted Gregory, "Hector, you know anything about this?"
"Certainly not!" snapped Hector, his furrowed brow then lessened a little, pondering over what Gordon had said, "but this could be a way out of it without getting caught in the crossfire..."
"An overhaul at any given time?" smirked Gregory, "yeah... like that's going to happen. We'll still be withdrawn in the next six months."
"But we will be looked at with keen eyes by enthusiasts," Hector argued, "think about it, brother. It's the best chance we've got to survive."
His brother said nothing back, but did look to think it over for the rest of the night, Gordon smiled at the two brother's bond. Thinking about him and his siblings, he had been the eldest of the lot and the furthest away. Never seeing them every day like they usually did back when they were fresh out of the works. It made Gordon depressed that he wouldn't be able to see a few of his siblings and fell asleep unhappy.