Lady Of The Island

The Crew

I turned around, quick on my heel. Behind me was a long green diesel, scratched and scarred to hell and back. He held a weak smile.

"Oh! Urm, yes. That's..me.." I cautiously replied. "You're...Paxman..."

The diesel smiled.
"I prefer the name Derek. You spoke to my driver on the phone before you arrived."

"Did I?" I was genuinely confused. "I thought I was talking to Sir Topham Hatt?"

Derek grimaced. "We haven't had a 'Sir Topham Hatt' in decades..."

"Oh? Why was it your driver specifically?"

Derek smiled. "Come with me and I'll explain, its way too classified to get out in public."

I made a note of this, climbed inside Derek and soon saw the station disappear into the horizon.

***

We soon arrived at a large rundown Roundhouse in the middle of nowhere. We were far from the upper-class town and now stood in what seemed like an abandoned harbour.
It didn't take Derek long to speak again.

"Our controller, or The Fat Director as we like to call him behind his back, doesn't believe us when we talk about the disappearance, or the chain of events that the suspect caused..."

"Hold the phone." I stepped out and looked around. "What do you mean 'we'?"

As if on cue, there were hums and huffs all around. Four engines emerged from the roundhouse. Three of which I recognised: Neville, Molly and Arthur. They all looked very different indeed. Neville was painted black still, but had red and white lining that showed off his build beautifully. He had a gaping hole under his eye.
Molly was painted in a dark teal, one which was extremely scratched. Her lamp was smashed to bits and there were glass remnants stuck into her face.
Arthur remained his dark maroon, but was missing the LMS lettering and was damaged all around. He did have a nameplate on his smokebox, however. It read 'Clarence'. Huh, the name Arthur was made up...

Beside the trio, though, was a large black tender engine, with a beautifully proportioned face and additional smoke deflectors - even though her basis originally lacked them. She looked like she had been through the roughest wars.

"Who's that?" I asked, pointing to the engine. "I don't think that they made it into any media."

"That's Rawlinson, she didn't - by choice, I must add." Derek smiled.

Rawlinson frowned. "It's not like they'd want me now anyway."

"That bloody thing." Neville grunted, his speech slurred from his injuries.