//------------------------------//
// 1: July 4th, 1973 
// Story: Old Iron 
// by Fujimi200SX 
//------------------------------//

It was July 4th of 1973. A day I remember vividly. I woke with a very slow start, barely able to make out anything around me for what felt like minutes before my vision sharpened. Around me, I could see that I was in a workshop. There was mostly rolling stock, but I could spot one or two engines on the adjacent tracks. Neither of whom I recognized.

I vividly remember seeing the workshop contort and age. Vines and bushes enraptured the building, cracks and rust appeared everywhere, all of the engines were rusting so much that they fell apart. I grimaced in response to this. While I knew this wasn't really happening, it was still a creepy sight.

"Edward?"

I refocused onto the stout gentleman standing on the platform to my left. He was wearing a black suit and tophat with a pale yellow undershirt. He looked at me with a worried, but hopeful look. Seeing the familiar face made me smile.

"Oh, hello sir," I greeted.

A sigh of relief escaped the stout gentleman. "Oh thank god. You're alright."

I frowned. "What do you mean? Did something happen?"

The man, named Sir Topham Hatt, took in a deep breath. "I'd really rather not say, but..." He sighed. "You've been under the effects of Green Water for seventeen months."

"Seventeen months?!"

I was speechless. Engines being under the effects of "Green Water" - an anesthetic given to engines when undergoing repairs so they don't feel pain - for longer than eight or even nine months was unheard of. They were typically woken up once every month or so to make sure their psych isn't affected.

"Yes, Edward. Seventeen months," another man said as he came into view. He was my driver, Thomas Eric Galindes.

"What happened?" I asked. "I thought I was only in for a change of brakes."

"Yes, that was the plan," Topham said. "However, an accident occurred just as we finished and were about to start you, Thomas accidentally poured a bit of Black Water into your tank."

I was shaken to my wheels upon hearing this. "Black Water" was another chemical agent similar to Green Water. But while Green Water was an anesthetic, Black Water was a euthanizing agent. It was induced on non-faceless vehicles - vehicles like me who are alive and have faces, hence the term - when they wanted to die. This assisted suicide was known as "The Final Firing", and was chosen by vehicles for a number of reasons, most involving something along the lines of them not wanting to drain the budget of their company due to very costly repairs.

The thought that I could have been killed on accident was horrifying enough. But for it to be by my own driver that nearly did it? That was even worse.

I mustered the courage to speak. "How... did it happen? And how am I not dead?"

Both men's faces turned vengeful. "Some plastered git fouled up and put black water in typical water barrels," Thomas stated. "I poured maybe a gallon in when I realized. I screamed and within moments any and all water barrels were halted all around the island."

"I was there when it happened," Topham said. "I almost fainted when the realization struck and could only watch as Thomas and your fireman Charlie desperately try to start your system. Everyone in the workshop thought you were done for. However, we could all see that your system was still able to start, but barely. When Mickey arrived in record time, he said that you were still alive, but you wouldn't wake up for an indeterminant amount of time."

I stayed silent for a few seconds as I took the information in. Thoughts rushed through my head, some wondering what would have happened if I really had died, others wondering who the git that fouled up was.

"Blimey," I finally let out. "That's... That's horrible."

The men nodded in response.

"If I may, where is Charlie?"

"He's bedridden right now," Thomas replied. "Nothing life-threatening."

"Huh..."

I looked past the men as I noticed some strange engines at the other end of the shed. Funny engines, they were. They had bright coats of paint, party hats, button noses, and one had oversized glasses. I blinked in response to this, causing them to disappear.

"Is something wrong, Edward?" Topham asked.

"Just some hallucinations, sir," I replied.

"Yes, that is to be expected," a new voice said. Ahead, I saw a crimson red non-faceless engine exactly like myself slowly puffing towards me on an adjacent track. A 4-4-0 with the letters "F.R." on his tender. It was Mickey. Sodor's Fire and Rescue engine.

I smiled. "Oh. Hello Mickey."

Mickey smiled as he stopped. "How goes things, Edward? Everything alright so far?"

"A bit shook, but otherwise I'm fine."

"Does anything hurt?"

"No sir."

"That's good. Listen, it's a good thing I'm here. I need to evaluate your psych. Make sure nothing is mentally wrong with you. Are you alright with this?"

"Of course chief. I understand."

"Sure you don't need a few minutes to get readjusted?"

"No sir. I feel just fine."

"If you say so. Has Sir Topham told you what has happened to you over the past seventeen months?"

I frowned and looked at Sir Topham. "What has happened to me?"

Topham sighed. "Over the months, I couldn't bear to let you sit in place with nothing being done to help you. Sodor has been doing very well in its finances, so I decided to pay for some new parts for you."

"What sort of parts?"

"New wheels for one. All your fittings and pipes have been replaced, as have both your cylinders. You've even been fitted with a speedometer that rises up to one hundred miles per hour, per Charlie's request."

I laughed at this. "A hundred miles per hour sir? I doubt I'd ever be able to reach two-thirds that speed."

"It was one off of a scrapped A3."

"Ah, I see."

The fat controller smiled. "But the most recent addition was the roller bearings on each and every one of your axles, including those on your tender."

"Roller bearings, sir?"

"Yes. It's a special kind of bearing I'm trying out that can go faster and last longer than traditional bearings. They're expensive, but considering their advantages I think they'll be worth it. I already have three special coaches outside that I want you to take when you're ready."

I frowned. "With all due respect sir, wouldn't it be bad for me if I go out with these hallucinations impacting me?"

"On the contrary," Mickey interjected. "It would be better if you went out and about. Maybe not on regular service, especially on the mainline, but some shunting and small yard-to-yard jobs will reduce the hallucinations."

"If you say so chief." I smiled. "As skeptical as I am, I can't wait to try out these new bearings. They certainly sound interesting."

"There's a good engine," Topham said with a  smile. "Welcome back Edward."

"Glad to be back."





Over the next few hours and late into the afternoon, Mickey evaluated my psych, which I did surprisingly well on, all things considered. I did suffer a few hallucinations, most involving either the strange engines or the equally strange rapid-aging hallucination. However, one stood out that I remember vividly. I saw three maroon tank engines that had been part of the Wellsworth and Suddery Railway, along with a familiar man in a blue suit in the far corner of the shop.

Other than that, I did just fine. Mickey allowed me to leave the shop to test my new bearings and make sure everything was in good working order. And my word, the roller bearings were nothing like I thought. It was extraordinarily easy to get going and made me feel like I was riding on fresh grease.

I wish I could say a couple of my friends had stopped by during this, but they hadn't. They were all too busy with their own jobs. I didn't mind. They had a railway to run, and I didn't want to be a detriment to that.

The three coaches were different then what I had seen before. Instead of the standard four-axle bogie coaches I was used to, they instead had six axle bogies.  Another noteworthy detail was their classic LNER livery. Brown primary color with a large cream-colored stripe around the windows. They even had the word Pullman in the center. Truth be told, I liked the look of these ones over the normal ones.

As I backed up to the three coaches, Sir Topham walked up to me.

"Edward, I'm going to be riding in your cab to Tidmouth."

"What for?" I asked.

"Because it's convenient. Also so I can make sure you're fine on the way there."

I smiled. "Okay then."

"Have a nice run Edward," Mickey said as he pulled beside me with a works coach.

"You too, Mickey," I replied.

"If you need anything, just say so. I'm sure I can provide."

"Of course chief. I wish you luck throughout the rest of the day."

"You too. Again, it's nice to have you back."

"It's great to be back."

With two toots of the whistle, Mickey was off. I was coupled up to the three coaches and left soon after. Along the way, I continued to marvel at the smoothness and efficiency of the roller bearings. They worked so well on the coaches that it almost felt like I wasn't pulling anything at all, which worked against me as I accidentally slipped my wheels pulling out. Me, Sir Topham, and Thomas had a laugh as we pulled out of the works yard and went down the mainline.

We must have picked a bad, or good, time to leave, as I saw only one other engine on the way to Wellsworth. That engine happened to be Thomas, a bright blue tank engine with six wheels and a number 1 on his side tanks. We whistled at each other and exchanged greetings, but because he was going in the opposite direction we could only do just that. I wasn't even able to say that I'd see him later.

"It's so nice to be able to just look at a gauge to see our speed instead of having to guess," Thomas said.

"It must be," I agreed.

As we went over the Preston Incline, or "Gordon's Hill", Topham and Thomas - my driver - filled me in on a few things that had happened over Sodor. Namely, not much. Topham had brought in another engine to do my work, and Thomas had apparently dated a woman for a few months before breaking up since she was a complete freeloader. He had also gotten a new car. The most notable thing that happened was that Topham was thinking about ordering for a nuclear power plant to be built.

"Why? What's wrong with the power plants we have now?" I asked upon hearing this.

"Though privately owned, they're expensive," Topham began. "Not to mention their pollution. Having a centralized power plant able to supply the entire island with electricity would reduce costs for both the island and the railway."

"For the railway?"

"Yes. As it stands, we have to send trains all throughout the island to deliver fuel to the various power plants. If it were to just one delivery to a single location, that would alleviate stress from the branchline crews."

"Don't we already make fuel deliveries to other businesses that don't involve power?"

"Yes, yes, but those trains would be much shorter and therefore not force the engines to work as hard. Plus they run out of fuel at different times. Having a set time in which deliveries are made are sure to increase efficiency."

"Hm... Wait, why haven't you went ahead and built it by now?"

"Because I was funding your overhaul."

Upon hearing this, I flipped out at Topham. I told him that he shouldn't put money towards me just because he felt sorry for me. He retorted by saying the island didn't absolutely need the power plant, to which I said that he might as well not build it. This back-and-forth argument continued until Wellsworth, where I was forced to stop because of a faulty signal.

"Well. While this gets resolved," Topham said as he stepped off my cab. "I'm going to use the lavatory. Be right back."

"Aren't there lavatories in the coaches?" Thomas asked.

"Yes, but I've never felt comfortable using them," Topham replied.

"Alright. Speaking of, I might as well use the lavatory as well. See you in a second, Edward."

"Of course," I replied.

With Thomas and Sir Topham gone, I idled by the platform, chatting with a few passengers that recognized me and were glad to have me back. Most I certainly didn't know, but it was nice to chat and learn of what happened during my hiatus. Which, again, wasn't much.

I waited for Topham and Thomas to come back, glancing around at the scenery and warding off any hallucinations.

And I continued waiting.

And continued waiting...

...

...

...


BANG!!!


I yelped as the loudest explosion I had ever heard ricocheted through the air. It was louder than a rocket taking off, louder than even the biggest railway gun I had ever fired.

The sky itself began to turn red just as I heard a sound nobody wants to hear. Air Raid Sirens. But judging by the giant plume of smoke I saw in the distance, it wouldn't have taken a genius to know what had happened.

"OH TO HELL WITH THE SIGNAL!"

With two whistles, I just about snapped the couplings getting out of Wellsworth. I charged past the faulty signal, speed increasing faster than what I thought was impossible for an engine of any kind, much less myself. I raced down the mainline, appearing as a bright blue blur to anybody I passed.

I don't know how adrenaline works for humans, but something that I'm sure was the equivalent of the stuff was surging through my body. I was going at speeds I had never gone before. Faster than James, faster than Henry, faster than Gordon, faster than the Flying Scotsman himself. My pistons pumped harder and my siderods went faster than ever.

I blew my whistle as loud as I could as I passed Donald, a small black Scottish tender engine pulling a slow goods train in the opposite direction. I remember the look on his face vividly. It was a look of shock, surprise, and horror. Either because of my speed, or what was happening.

With Crosby approaching, I whistled as loud and hard as I could, alerting those who were - for whatever reason - still on the platform that I was passing through. Once through, I set my sights on the one place ahead that would shield me from what was to come. Crosby Tunnel. I passed over a small bridge and then under another before the tunnel came into view.

With the crimson-red sun obscuring my vision, I dashed inside, squeezing my eyes shut as I slammed on my brakes. Despite them being practically brand new, my speed and momentum ensured that I popped out the other end. My wheels ground against the rails as I continued for a dozen meters before finally stopping. The coaches bumped into me before rolling back, slacking and tightening the couplings a few times before they too stopped.

"Hoh... Hoh... Hoh... Hoh...... Hoh..." I looked down at the rails, completely knackered from the thrashing I had put myself through. I sat there for minutes as I caught my breath. After that, I began to look around at my surroundings.

It was then that I grew very confused. I knew every inch of the standard gauge rails. I knew that this side of Crosby Tunnel had three tracks set within a dugout with fencing at the top of said dugout.

It did not have a single track with trees and a cliff face on one side, with a sheer drop into a river on the other side. I knew it was a sheer drop into a river because it was right next to the track.

I blinked several times, trying to shake away this hallucination. To my surprise, it didn't go away. It stayed there like I was really there. Looking around, I found that I was within extremely mountainous terrain. Snow-capped mountains rose high into the sky, cut apart by various flowing rivers and valleys.

I practically knew every inch of Sodor, at least that of the standard gauge line. I knew that no place on Sodor, or even Britain for that matter, had a view like this for standard-gauge rails.

After gawking at the sight, I looked up and was shocked by the moon that now hung in the air. It was massive. Four times the size of the moon I had grown to know and love. Furthermore, it simply shouldn't have been out right now. The sun wasn't meant to set for hours.

After gawking at that, I switched on my headlamp and tentatively began moving forward, hoping that doing so would snap me out of this strange dream. If it was a dream, that is.

As I continued down this strange mountainous track, the dark feeling I had that this was real became more and more apparent. I had somehow been transported to a different part of the world while escaping the blast that had befallen Sodor. In all my years, I had never thought that would happen either to myself, or any other engine. Those that were alive, at least. The deceased were probably able to do stuff like this.

...

What if... I was dead?

No, no. I wasn't. I couldn't have been dead. I wasn't. I...

"What's that?"

Ahead, I could see what actually looked like a giant mythical sword rising into the sky. It looked to be made of crystal, and upon further inspection, looked more like a palace you'd see out of straight fantasy. Surrounding the crystal superstructure was a circle filled with small houses and businesses also made of crystal, with perfectly symmetrical pathways slicing through it all.

My eyes quickly fell on the tracks leading near the mythical city, then onto the station that was stationed next to the tracks, pun partially intended. With a breath, I cruised down the tracks I was currently on down towards the city, hoping to find someone who could tell me where I am.

Suddenly, the coaches behind me braked hard, and I was brought to a screeching halt.

"Hey! What the? What happened?" I asked, wishing that I could look back at the coaches to see. I knew there weren't any non-faceless coaches on my train, which is where the confusion stemmed from. "Oh god don't tell me one of the brake lines failed."

"Technically, they did!" a familiar voice called out.

"What the?! Thomas? Was that you?" I asked, growing hopeful as I heard ground crunch behind me.

"Yes Edward! It was me! I disconnected a brake hose!"

I heard the sound of hissing air as Thomas reconnected the hose.

"Oh thank god. When did you get on?"

"Edward, there are way more important matters than how I got on!"

I rolled my eyes. "Like that explosion? Like how we seem to be in a different-"

I stopped cold as "Thomas" walked into my vision. In place of the tall, physically fit man I had grown to enjoy the company of, was instead a blue pony with a yellow mane and tail, red eyes, and large leathery wings connected to its barrel. The pony would be just as tall as the man if it were standing on its hind legs.

"Look at what I've been turned into!" the Thestral exclaimed.