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weirdowithaquill · 6 months

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Traintober 2023: Day 27 - Record-Breaker

Mallard Broke the World Speed Record; It Broke Her:

4468 Mallard broke the world steam speed record in 1938, changing her life forever…

1938:

The quiet, almost timid engine sat in the works, listening to the workers. “You hear? That engine there is fastest in the world!” one said, pointing to the famous engine. Mallard blinked, amazed. She’d never been told if she’d actually broken the record – but to hear that she had, and to hear that it was major news! It was incredible.

There was no one better than her in that moment – she was the greatest!

“Ah, the engine of the hour!” cheered a voice. Mallard gazed down, spotting Sir Nigel Gresley himself walking over. Mallard gasped in amazement. The Chief Mechanical Engineer almost never visited his engines. “I came to congratulate you again, Mallard. I am proud of you – you are truly a credit to this railway. The poster child for what every Northeaster engine should strive for. Well done, and keep up the good work, Mallard.”

Mallard beamed, thanking her designer. Then, she turned to the gossiping workers. “Well? You heard him – I need to be back in service now! Hurry it up!”

1963:

“So, which of us is to be preserved?” asked Silver Link, staring down apprehensively at the members of the British Railways board. The men had come to decide on a Gresley Pacific to save from the scrapper’s torch.

“Who do you think?” snorted one of the men in the bowler hats. “We must choose the locomotive that achieved the greatest feat of a steam locomotive – 60022 Mallard, you are to be restored to your LNER looks and sent to the Museum of British Transport Museum. The rest of you… hope someone purchases you.”

Silver Link just stared in shock as several diesels sniggered in the background. “But I… but… She didn’t even make it back to London! I am the first! I reached 114—” “Stop speaking 60014, there is no reason for you to complain. You are already withdrawn, and shall be sent away once we have the time.” “Mallard… are you going to allow this?” asked Silver Link, eyes wide in horror. “Well, elder sister, some of us are just… more important than others. I represent our class, and I am the best at such an honour.” Silver Link went red in the face, but Mallard was already steaming away, blowing smoke at her elder sister.

Behind Silver Link, Flying Scotsman and Silver King shared a nervous look.

1975:

Flying Scotsman sat on the points outside the brand new York National Railway Museum, Green Arrow on one side and Gordon on the other. It was the first time that the four had seen each other – the fourth being an indignant Mallard sat opposite them.

“What do you mean, he’s worthy of being the same level as me?” sniffed Mallard. “He’s a mixed traffic engine!” “Green Arrow is an LNER engine, same as us,” reminded Scott crossly, facing down his cousin. “And there are only nine LNER Pacifics left, so your levels are completely worthless! We need to end this… this… this…” “Elitist garbage!” Gordon snapped. “We are long past this, cousin. What’s stopping you from accepting Green Arrow?” “Green Arrow is a simple mixed traffic engine,” hissed Mallard. “I am the greatest steam engine to have ever been built! No one has ever, or will ever, beat my record. There’s a reason that I am in this museum, and you are out slaving away to keep in steam.”

“Slaving away?!” Gordon let off steam furiously. Scott just clenched his jaw. “There’s no point arguing with her,” he sighed. “We’re better off just getting the rest on side.” The three steamed away, leaving Mallard to be pushed gently back into the grand museum by a timid diesel shunter.

None of the other engines in the museum spoke to her as she was shunted into place. Not Evening Star, not Aerolite, not Coppernob. They all just shot her dark glances.

1988:

Mallard sped along the line, feeling the wind rush past her face. “I forgot what this was like,” she huffed, finally arriving back at Doncaster after crossing the country to reach Scarborough and back. Several relatives of her crew from back when she’d broken the world record sat in her coaches – but they were inconsequential. After all, any crew could have gotten her up to her record-breaking speed.

“So, how was the run?” asked Gordon politely, sitting in the next platform over. Mallard ignored him. Gordon rolled his eyes. Green Arrow and Spencer shared a look.

“I’m impressed,” hummed Spencer. “Though I’ve heard that the East Germans have built a steam locomotive that’s almost able to match Mallard’s speed.” Mallard’s eye twitched. “No they haven’t!” she suddenly snarled, spooking several of the passengers on the platform. “I am the fastest. That’s my role! Don’t talk such drivel around me.”

Spencer sighed. As the only one of Mallard’s siblings willing to speak to her, and one of only four engines that had spoken to Mallard (he’d checked with Duchess of Hamilton) in the last ten years, he was uniquely able to see just how much his younger sister had changed.

Where Mallard had once been a healthy pale, her pallor had grown almost dangerously blue – while her formerly vibrant eyes had gone dull, with just a hint of something… unsettling in them. And yet her paintwork was spotless, her brass polished until it glistened in the sun, even after a full run with passengers.

“Are you alright?” asked Spencer quietly. Gordon and Green Arrow pretended not to hear. “I beg your pardon?!” roared Mallard, spooking yet more passengers. “Are you insinuating something?! That such a simple run would tire me out? I am the fastest steam engine in the world – I am more than competent, thank you.” “I just wanted to ch—” “Well don’t!” sneered Mallard. “I am fine.”

Spencer’s tentative frown turned downwards into a scowl, and the great silver engine hissed steam as he started away. Gordon watched him go, knowing deep in the pit of his boiler that the silver engine wouldn’t be back.

Silver King had never truly forgiven his younger sister for the way she’d spoken to Silver Link, even if his name had changed, as had his owners and his lifestyle.

2013:

Spencer, Bittern, Dominion of Canada, Dwight D Eisenhower, Union of South Africa, and Sir Nigel Gresley all stood in awkward silence. Their sister – Mallard – was being wheeled out of the museum for a photoshoot. “So… did you hear her last night?” asked Dwight quietly. “She was screaming at the shunting diesels again.” “I can’t believe they made me agree to his,” hissed Spencer. “I promised myself after 1988 – never again. And yet here I am. At least Scott gets to hide in the workshops.” “It cannot be that bad?” tried Woodcock – only the humans called her Dominion of Canada, “I mean… she has to have made some friends in there, right?” “Unlikely,” snorted Osprey – the humans had given her that name in the 1980s, and she much preferred it to ‘Union of South Africa’, “she spends most of her days just glaring at everyone. Last I heard, it’s a real treat for them when she gets brought out here to be gawked at.”

“Shh! Shh! She’s coming,” warned Bittern. The six all went silent as Mallard was dragged off the turntable and over to the line of engines.

“Ah, good, you all made it,” Mallard said haughtily. “It’s what I deserve, getting the humans to bring you all here to celebrate our class’s greatest achievement.” “What you—” Osprey cut off, indignant. Beyond her, Dwight gawked in shock while Spencer just rolled his eyes. The shunter braked the famous engine to a stop, jolting slightly.

“Did you just jolt me?” hissed Mallard, voice deathly quiet. The shunter gulped. “Don’t you dare!” snapped Spencer, speaking to the world-record holder for the first time in nearly thirty years. “You cannot deride these hard-working engines, I refuse to allow it!” “Oh? As if you are any better, Mr Private Engine,” sneered Mallard. “Silver King, the weird runt of the class who galivants off to that backwards island where our Crewe-rebuilt cousin lives.” “Gordon still pulls his express!” roared Spencer, letting off steam furiously. “Gordon treats everyone with respect! He’s a far better representative of our railway than you are – he’s out there, pulling passengers and acting as the ambassador for Gresley’s work. He holds a record for the longest-serving express engine in the world!”

“He has Midland parts,” snarled Mallard. “He’s a mongrel of parts, and I can’t stand him! I can’t stand him and his righteousness! This is my celebration, my record, my museum! He can talk when he has a proper record of his own. Let’s see him try and beat me – oh wait, didn’t he lose his dome last time he attempted that?”

None of the other A4s spoke, and the moment the photoshoot was over, all four in steam left, taking Dwight and Woodcock with them, leaving Mallard alone.

2016:

Flying Scotsman sat outside the NRM, steam wafting from his funnel. He was the last one left. Spencer had permanently relocated to Sodor after 2013, the other A4s steered clear of York Museum, Gordon had his own work, and Green Arrow had moved to Shildon. So, it was only him left to talk to her.

“Oh, it’s the money pit.” “Mallard. I came to say goodbye.” “Goodbye? Where are you going, Gresley Disgrace?” “I’m going to run mainline excursions,” Flying Scotsman replied evenly. “I’m not going to have to listen to you anymore when you scream abuse at the others or rant about the new PRR engine.” “Rant? Abuse? 4472, you don’t understand! I am Gresley’s pride and joy! I am the greatest – he would roll over in his grave if he saw you now. It’s my destiny to be the greatest – and everyone needs to accept that!” “Sir Nigel Gresley loved us all equally,” snapped Flying Scotsman. “And don’t you forget, any one of your class—”

“I did it!” roared Mallard. “Me! Not any of you! I am the world record breaker – I am the greatest steam engine of all time! You’re nothing compared to me! I am Sir Nigel’s triumph! I am the legacy of the Northeasters! Me! How dare you speed to me like that?! Learn your place!”

Flying Scotsman stared evenly back at the shrieking engine. “I have,” he said simply. “And it’s not here. The other engines can survive listening to your abuse, but I don’t have to. You’re nothing, Mallard. Not anymore. You sit here, on this siding, in this shed, and you cling to the past because that’s all you’ll ever have.”

Flying Scotsman puffed out of the shed, the wrecked screams of his cousin following him through the sliding shed doors. They transformed from howls of rage into a hail of screeching tears, as Mallard’s entire self-worth crashed down on her. The former icon of steam and speed finally lost it, all the rage and anger and simmering hatred growing inside her frames boiling over as she cursed her cousin.

Flying Scotsman couldn’t help but feel sorry for the engine – but all the same, she had spent decades wrecking their designer’s good name with her attitude. Her stardom had placed her up on a pedestal – one where the loneliness of fame had engulfed her.

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#fanfiction writer #railway series #weirdowithaquill #thomas the tank engine #railways #traintober 2023 #traintober #ttte mallard #ttte flying scotsman #ttte green arrow #ttte spencer #ttte gordon #mental problems #Mallard loses her humanity

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ttte-in-the-sky-au · 2 years

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Go Out There And Change The World

"Go out there and change the world." He said it so often and now all that's left is a box and all the memories. Gordon could still hear Arrow's tired, raspy voice as he looked at the tiny snippet of what was once probably a school exercise book, rushed handwriting and all.

Arrow was one of Gordon's biggest supporters, besides Polly and North. Gordon could still remember that signature shaky but genuine smile that would cross Arrow's face as the young Gordon babbled to him about his day. He could still recall the shaking hand that signed his first football jersey, which was neatly folded and put in the cardboard box he rediscovered not too long ago. Under the old, worn out jersey that was in surprisingly good condition was a photograph. It was of a young adult Arrow and a pre-teen Gordon, having their first adventures in the kitchen. Tears began rolling down Gordon's cheeks as he was reminded of all the hours he'd spent with his oldest brother. "I could've- no, I should've spent so much more time with him." he thought to himself as he set the fragile photo down on the floor and focused on the box once again. Another picture, this time of Arrow and North.

The two were practically inseparable, apart for not more than 5 minutes at a time. On the back of the photo was text written in the same rushed handwriting that the little snippet had that read "Even if I can't change the world, I'll be here for you while you try."

Arrow wasn't the strongest physically, but nothing could break his spirit. He could be on his death bed and he'd still encourage you to stay positive and do something good for the world, or at least your own. He knew he didn't have as much time as his siblings, but he made the best of it.

He was there for North when he and Mallard grew distant, watched as the latter took off, helped Mary with her dreams of becoming a historian, encouraged Windsor to follow his hairdresser dreams, walked Polly to her music classes every day and of course.. he watched as Gordon and Scott grew up to be the siblings they are today. Arrow unfortunately didn't get to really see Bonny grow up, but his influence on his other siblings definitely left its mark on the little girl. He got to meet her once before he passed, and he made sure to tell her what he told their other siblings: "Go out there and change the world."

Gordon looked through all the photographs of his siblings, not even thinking about stopping the tears from falling down his face.

After he put down the photos, he picked up an old, worn out, faded picture book. It was Arrow's favourite to read to his siblings at bedtime, the pages completely faded to white where he flipped them. He could hear his brother's voice as he read the simple story. By now, there was only one thing left in the box: a white teddy bear, holding a blue heart. There was a tag attached to the toy's ear, reading "For my Shooting Star. Go out there and change the world." still in the same rushed handwriting, though even messier than the other handwritten notes. It was probably one of the last things Arrow wrote by hand before he passed on.

#ttte #ttte au #ttte humanized #ella tried #more writing!#this was based on an idea that's been on my mind all day #also I'll draw something better in the morning #it's currently 0:57 am as of writing these tags #anyway!#arrow was a very good man #he's like the older brother I wish I grew up with #ttte gordon #ttte green arrow #gresley siblings #not using my art tags for this #i gotta make an actual cover/thumbnail/whatever before I'll even think about that

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