Chapter 2 - Blackmail

Miraculously, Duck started out the day as a blank slate, meaning he had forgotten about you-know-what for the most part, and he was perfectly content with that; he hadn't even run into Oliver on his branch line to remind him, which was another stroke of luck.

But while the pannier engine was waiting in a station on his branch line, he assumed his mind began to play tricks on him when heard numerous strangers murmuring. About what, Duck had no clue. But he had a feeling of dread that it wasn't anything good.

One teenage leaned over to whisper into the ear of another teen, most likely a close friend, and she gasped at what she heard.

"You're kidding!"

"Nope. I was there, and I saw it with my own eyes. You know Greg from the newspaper gossip column, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, I heard he got a few really good pictures, and he's gonna post 'em in his next story."

"Oh, jeez. I can't imagine what it must be like to be humiliated like that."

"I dunno—they seemed like love birds to me."

"Ew!"

As the two giggled and walked away, Duck's rods were practically rattling in terror. Was the one girl telling the truth? Had she been a passenger on Oliver's train when they-?

Oh, stop being so paranoid, Montague! Duck screamed at himself internally, The odds of her knowing anything are slim to none. Besides, that photographer she mentioned could've taken pictures of anyone—the universe doesn't revolve around you.

"Hi, Duck!" The said engine yelped in surprise, especially when he hadn't even noticed Percy sitting across from him on the opposite track.

"Oh…Percy…it's just you…" Duck huffed while catching his breath, "Be a friend, and don't ever do that again."

"Sorry," Percy chuckled nervously, "I'm supposed to go to the quarry, but I'm afraid to work with the troublesome trucks."

"Ok? Why are you telling me this?"

"Well, I wanted to ask Oliver for help since the trucks never disobey him, but I can't find him. So, I was wondering if you knew."

Duck's expression switched from calm and collected, to nervous and inarticulate, "U-Uh, heh-heh…s-sorry, Percy! I-I, um, haven't heard from and/or seen Olive Oil lately!"

"Um—don't you mean 'Oliver'?" Percy questioned slowly when he noticed that Duck mispronounced the said auto-tank engine's name.

"R-Right, right! That old geezer…engine…guy…"

The air quickly became tense to the point where neither engine could figure out what to say, figuring it would make the conversation much worse. And with that notion, Percy thought it was best to drop it.

"Uh-huh…well, I guess I'll just keep asking around if anyone else has seen him. Thanks anyway, Duck," the green engine admitted sheepishly before puffing away.

"Sure thing, Percy," Duck added meekly, fearing that his voice was too small for Percy hear.

Jesus, you're so pathetic. And all for what? An accidental kiss…that doesn't mean anything? Duck pondered in anger, No…no, this can't go one. I've got to put a stop to this.

After realizing that there was no better story, James finally gave up and decided to share the Scottish Twins and Emily's story with Greg, hoping it would be enough to satiate his and his readers' need for great stories. But Greg had already heard of the story himself and didn't think to post the infamous story in the newspaper, so he had his doubts.

"I dunno, James. You sure people are gonna like this love triangle crap?" the photographer asked in disbelief, relaxing in one of the coaches.

"I'm terribly sorry, but I couldn't find anything better. You said you wanted a romance story about us engines, so at least most of the people won't have heard it already," James explained apologetically.

"Alright. But if yer story does bugger all ta bring in viewers, yer never gettin' in the paper." James gasped in surprise, to which Greg grinned in confidence. "Yeah, that's right. I know the only reason you wanted ta help me was ta get in a column of yer very own."

"H-How did you know?"

"I'm the head photographer and journalist of Sodor's best gossip column. Nothin' goes by without me noticin', so you best watch yer back, ya narcissistic cannibal."

A shudder of insecurity ran through James' boiler, making him realize just how serious Greg was. So, he remained silent for the rest of the journey to Callan Yard, not wanting to anger the Brooklyn-accented man anymore.

The two waited until the end of the day to head out, as to not irritate Sir Topham Hatt for distracting other engines and preventing them from being really useful. So, as the sun set over the ever-humble yard, James and Greg began looking for to Scottish Twins to gain some useful information.

James whistled a few times to get Donald's attention when rolled through with a train of heavy trucks, to which the latter stopped and whistled back.

"Hiya, James! What brings ya here?" Donald greeted politely.

James opened his mouth to answer, but Greg was quick to burst from his carriage and call out, "Actually, you are, Scotty—well, you and your brother's relationship with that spunky engine, Emily!"

A deep red blush quickly spread across Douglas' face, "Now, w-what're ya doin' pokin' inta other peoples' business?"

"What're we doin'?" Greg chuckled mockingly.

"We're simply giving those we care about what they want—surely, you can understand that," James taunted with a knowing smirk.

Greg then stepped forward, "Yeah. So, if ya don't mind, I just wanna ask a few questions about yer little triangle. Think you can do that, Scotty?"

"First of all, my name isn't 'Scotty', it's Douglas. And second, I don't see why I should listen to you," Douglas growled threateningly.

"Right, ok. I see how it is. James, could you excuse us for a minute? I gotta talk with 'Dougy' here in private," Greg demanded, placing air quotes around Douglas' nickname, and James didn't think twice before puffing to the other side of the yard.

Once the red engine was gone, Douglas sent another cold glare towards Greg, "Listen here, Greg Steffer. You wouldn't like it much if someone kept exposin' your most precious secrets either. It really hurts people."

"That so, Dougy? Well, then, I guess ya wouldn't want yer dear friend Oliver ta suffer in yer stead, would ya?"

Douglas could only cock a brow in great confusion. What was he talking about? And how could he know who Oliver is in the first place?

"What're you talkin' about?"

With a confident, swift movement of his hand, Greg pulled out a folder, revealing a collection of photos inside. And when Douglas took a moment to examine them, his eyes popped wide when he realized what was in the photo—or, more importantly, who.

"That…that can't be real," Douglas muttered in disbelief.

"Oh, but is it. Saw it with my own eyes, and the rest of Sodor will, too, if I don't find another interesting story ta take its place," Greg threatened, his voice low like a growl.

"Y-You can't do that!"

"Why not? All I gotta do is get it ta my publisher. And believe me, he loves a good life-destroyin' story as much as I do." Greg fluently placed the pictures of Duck and Oliver back into the folder, and hid it back into his jacket. "So, if you don't wanna betray yer best friend, you'll come quietly and answer a few questions fer me. Think you can do that, Dougy?"

Douglas swallowed hard, the taste of fear salty as it dried his throat. Greg was right; if he doesn't do what he says, he'll lose Oliver forever.

I can't do that to my best friend, the Scottish engine thought sorrowfully, sighing in defeat afterwards.

"No one else will find out about this," he demanded.

"You have my word," Greg swore while holding up two fingers, symbolizing a scout's honor.

Meanwhile, James wandered around the yard to wait for Greg and Douglas, but a peculiar sound caught his ears when he ventured to the opposite side of the yard. Once he passed a few trains, he found none other than Duck muttering incoherently, facing the other way and hiding his face. But what really confused James was that there was no one else around, so who was he talking to?

"Oh, what would I even say to him? 'Oliver, I know we're great friends, but this whole incident between us…' Ugh…I can't even look it at him without thinking about that ki-."

"Duck?" James spoke as he approached, nearly making Duck jump out of his metal in surprise, "Who are you talking to?"

"U-Uh…heh-heh…was I talking out loud?" Duck stuttered, hoping he was oblivious to that last part.

"Yes," the red engine answered slowly.

"Oh, uh…whoops?"

"Is something bothering you, Duck?"

"N-No, no! Of course not!"

"If you're stuttering and far more distant than usual, then it's clearly nothing! Just spit it out!"

"There's nothing to tell!"

"Really? Then what were you going to say to Oliver?"

Duck's rage quickly turned into paranoia. He had heard him.

"I think it's pretty obvious that there's been some personal vendetta between you two lately. Thomas even told me that you won't let Oliver help you with anything anymore. Why is that?"

"I-It…i-it's nothing, really," Duck quivered helplessly, unable to look James in the eye, giving away his obvious lie.

"Well, since you won't talk to him, then I'll just go get him myself and bring him here. If there's something wrong, then you need to talk it out."

James tried to back out of the yard, but Duck quickly chased after him, "W-Why do you care so much about what's going on with me and Oliver, anyway?!"

"Because if the both of you continue to avoid each other, then your work won't get done faster, so Sir Topham Hatt will most likely make me do it."

"But you don't need to worry about that! I was going to talk to him anyway!"

The two engines stopped, silence falling upon them for a moment.

"Were you really?" James questioned doubtfully, his eyes squinting in suspicion. Duck couldn't bring himself to answer, and instead blushed while looking away in shame.

"Alright, James, enough chit-chat! Time ta go!" Greg shouted as he strutted up to James, Douglas not far behind.

"Did you get all the details?" James asked.

"The whole kit and caboodle." To prove his point, Greg waved a thick notebook, showing pages covered in paragraphs and bullet points. Not needing any further evidence, James left the yard once Greg climbed back into the coaches, leaving Duck and Douglas in an awkward tension like no other.

"What did Greg Steffer want with you?" Duck eventually asked out of curiosity.

"Oh, heh…wait until the next newspaper is published, and you'll see," Douglas replied nervously, knowing that if Duck found out that Greg blackmailed him and why, he would only be one step closer to losing Oliver.