Troublesome Trucks

Arc 9 Intrigue

Weeks passed, weeks turned to months. I had grown to hate the routine by this point. It was all the same, day in, day out. Most of the engines handled us roughly. Even if they didn't intend to, they didn't acknowledge that they were causing the us harm, pain more like it. Never moving under my own power became a constant reminder of this twisted life, some higher power had bound me to. Like a prisoner in shackles. What kind of existence is this anyway? Who thought it a good idea to give a truck consciousness? Why couldn't I just be like that other truck at the Works? The only thing by now keeping me going was the search for Scruffey, it became my obsession over time. Day after day I asked for any information I could get on Scruffey, as well as the Little Western. Despite everything, after all of this time, I had yet to travel up there.

Info on Scruffey was never satisfactory. I found out however that The Little Western comprised of four engines. two tank engines, and a pair of Caledonian twins. Located on the northwestern side of the island, the branch consisted of three stations; Haultraugh, Arlseburgh West, and Callan. At the end of the line was another railway consisting of engines of extreme small stature. According to one of the fuel tankers, the NWR gets a majority of its ballast from this railway of little engines. It is during this time that I learned how to read English.

I took mental notes of all the engines and their reputations with the other trucks. Edward I still considered an ally, albeit I kept him at a distance. Never fully opening up to him, letting him in. Perhaps that was a mistake. He truly felt like the kindest old engine you'd ever meet, but he could never truly understand what it's like for us trucks. He never could, no matter how hard he'd try. 

If Gordon can be summarized in one word, it would be; distasteful. He hates pulling trucks like he's some aristocrat. As if it's beneath him. In the few times he's been seen pulling trucks, he's done nothing but vent out his anger against them, biffing and bashing them. Compared to pulling coaches, you'd think him a gentleman of merit.

I've come to despise the coaches here too. The other trucks were right, they get treated like angels and we the devils. They don't deserve to feel as cheerful as they do. I'd like to give them a piece of my mind.

James is within the same boat as Gordon, though his harsh words and attitude come more from an inflated ego. He takes extreme pride in the cleanliness of his one of a kind scarlet coat. As if being dirty will cause the destruction of the universe. From what I can tell from the other engines, he is very vain and although considered medium sized, he holds himself in such higher regard. Of all the goods engines on the island, he is easily the most hated among our kind.

Henry, Bear and Edward all seem fine with having to pull trucks around. Thus they let us have open conversations and sing songs between journeys the most. Although Henry doesn't particularly enjoy having to fetch his own train, coaches or otherwise.

As for the Farquhar branch engines; Thomas, Percy, Toby, Daisy and Mavis, they're all fairly unique. 

Thomas doesn't mind the work, although I found out he has a pair of personal coaches. Most intriguing. 

Percy is the main goods engine on the line and thus complains about being overworked but gets the job done. 

Daisy, the diesel railcar, a cross between a diesel and a coach, has been known to take a singular milk tanker up the line from time to time, much to her disagreement. Lazy ass. 

Mavis, works at the quarry at the end of the branch. She often gets into arguments with Toby about how to organize the trucks. She seemed very persuadable if given the right words and ideas. 

On the one occasion where I chatted with Toby, I mentioned how I loved Sodor and want to prove my usefulness. Anything could be further from the truth. This Island is nothing short of a curse. My existence showed no purpose. The engines can brake to a stop perfectly fine without us trucks helping, there's simply no point. This island's beauty is a façade, as soon as I came to this conclusion, all color seemed to drain from the world. It became an eyesore.

I nearly forgot to mention the Black Weasel. He seemed the lone wolf type, I'd bet my left buffer he and Louis would get along great. I'd get my chance to have a chat with him later than I had hoped. As a side note, I had asked Wolf about his thoughts on humans, 

"Eh, they do their job, we do ours. I don't particularly have any human friends but that's fine by me. Keep your friends close right?" He said, I couldn't help but chuckle. "Right" But your enemies closer.