The Legends Of Sodor, "Protectors of the gold dust"

Chapter 2, "The Legends"

-1990-
(Present day)

"Oi Thomas!" Shouted a voice.

Meet Thomas, he's our hero, well, one of them, he's a LBSC E2 tank engine with the Number 1 on his side tanks and the same livery as the number 4, Gordon, and the number 2, Edward.

Thomas groggly opened one eye, his dark blue paint glistened in the morning sun, the yellow lettering on his tanks shown brightly,  he had chisled facial features, and a liverpudlian accent.

Thomas rolled out of his birth in the shed and looked over at the source of the voice.

This engines name is Percy. They are a small saddle tank engine, with the same dark green livery as Henry. He had the number 6 painted on his running board and bunker. They had a high-pitched voice, with a hint of Irish in their voice.

"Ay up, Perc, how was the mail run?" The blue tank engine asked, A small smile crept across his mouth as his face relaxed and adjusted to the morning light.

"It was the same as usual, nothing really new happened, same old same old," Percy said, his brown eyes glinted like dark diamonds in the sunlight, an innocent smile on his face.

"Ahh, that's good," Thomas said with a yawn, his ocean blue eyes fixated on the mail coaches still in the platform.

"I should probably shunt these away, I'll see you later, yea?" Percy responded as he puffed away.

"Yea, seeya Percy," the blue engine said.

Thomas sat in the yard, the sounds of engines passing, and birds chirping danced through the crisp morning air, a thin layer of fog hung low over the tracks, Thomas watched as the sun rose, he took a deep breath, his body raised ever so slightly as he did, he looked into a puddle next to the tracks at his reflection.

A distraught expression crossed his face when he saw the scar cutting down the left side of his face and down his cheek. It wasn't as bad as it was a couple of months ago, but it was still very noticeable. His expression tensed as he closed his eyes and remembered his experience with Ten. Years ago.

He remembered watching the claw come directly at his face and then waking up with a sharp pain on the left side of his face and could taste the blood.

"Could have been worst," he told himself, "at least that's all that was effected."

"Alright, Thomas, let's go, Annie and Clarebel are waiting on us," His driver said.

As the driver opened the throttle, the little blue engine puffed slowly out of the yard, letting off steam as he did.

He pulled into the yards at tidmouth and backed onto his two coaches. He looked over to the station and saw Gordon, Henry, Arthur, and James.

Oh, I just realized you haven't met James yet.

James is an L&YR Class 28 with an added pony truck. He wasn't as big as Gordon or as small as Edward, They were special. He was painted a deep red color, Their tender carried the number 5, and he had blue and gold dual lining across his boiler, splashers, and tender, he had a heavier Scottish accent then Henry but still sounded more British.

James' Dark green eyes fixated on Thomas, "Oi! Thomas!" He shouted across the yard.

Thomas looked up, "Yes, James?" He responded with.

"Hurry up then! Get over here. Me and these guys are talking about branchlines!" The Red Engine said.

Thomas pulled his coaches to platform 3, as the others continued the conversation.

"I'm just saying, harwick? I've never been down it," James said.

"Well, every branchline plays a part, James," Edward said.