Troublesome Trucks

Arc 8 The Argument

After a quick fix of my brakes I was returned to work the same day. The same routine of going to so and so place and collecting so and so cargo and bringing it to so and so destination repeated. Again, and again, and again. Although I wished to ask Diesel about that night, I bided my time until we were alone.

One bright and sunny day, I found myself at Knapford in a line of empties with Louis. I could care less about where we were going or what we were to be carrying. This cycle had begun to numb my mind, especially since I was running out of questions to ask. James' tender slamming into the train snapped me back to reality. Before I could react, I heard Louis, who was in front of me, growling at James. He took a deep and shuddering breath. 

"Who's worse, James or Gordon?" I asked out loud to no one in particular. 

"James." Said all the trucks, Louis included. This resulted in another biff, and several snickers from the others. The guard's whistle blew, and we were off.

I whispered up to Louis, "Why do you hate James?" 

Louis coughed, "Oh I don't know, maybe because he's a prick?" 

I chuckled, "You got me there."

"Gordon is honestly more rude but James is more consistent. Enough pressure and something's bound to break." said Louis, trailing off on his last words. There was an awkward silence between us, I decided to break it. "What broke you?" 

Louis' chain twitched, "What?" he asked, stirred. 

"What made you crack, Louis? What made 'Louis' Louis?" I pressed, Louis grunted, "Like it's any of your damn business!" he snapped. I pressed on, "Was it the Smelters or the 'devil' you speak of?" 

"Shut up!" he called, I pressed on. "Was it someone close to you? One of your brothers? Is that it?" 

"I SAID SHUT UP!" Louis shouted, "YES SHUT UP!" Roared James, resulting in a mighty biff sending a shockwave of pain through our frames. 

"It's too early for this." James groaned. None of us spoke for the remainder of the journey. 

Once we'd arrived at Wellsworth, and had been shunted into our proper places, Louis whispered, 

"You hit the nail on the head. Yes one of my brothers was scrapped, right in front of me no less. The reason I told you not to make trouble was because my brother did. He used to be as annoying to all of the engines as he could, just to see how far he could push them. Well, no one seemed to notice when he was put on a scrap train and was never seen again." 

I stared, processing. Just for that they killed him off? They didn't just put him aside for later? What bullshit! Louis didn't cry nor emote, he had matured passed that stage. 

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. I felt some sympathy for him, for the loss of his brother's life, but truth be told, I barely felt a thing. I didn't know him, to me, to the rest of the railway, moreover the whole world, he was just another truck. Just like the two of us, we were just one of a great many. We sat in silence. Not at peace but conflicted, each in our own minds. A unified discord.

Then I remembered something, "Sorry to change the subject but did you hear about that shed being vandalized last week?" I asked, Louis looked up, "Yeah I did, was the graffiti blue?" my brow furrowed, "Yes, how did you know?" Louis glanced over to the station. Edward was there, pulling a stopping passenger train. The sun bounced off of his boiler, sending micro reflections our way. 

"This group of ruffians aren't particularly new to Sodor, they robbed a mail train just the other night." Mail train. So it was a heist meeting. "Really?" I responded with emphasis. 

"Yeah, got away with nearly 25,000 pounds worth of goods." Louis remarked. I stared in awe, "Who are they?" Louis smirked for the first time since I'd met him, "The kids call themselves The Blue Jays."