Chapter 7 - Flashback: Accidents Happen

Victor made a few cautious rounds around the Steam Works to ensure everything was shut down and put in its proper place, therefore declaring the building, as well as himself, ready for the night. But just as the Cuban engine settled in and began to close his eyes, a horrible stench of rot and rust wafted through the air. Victor gagged at the smell as it grew stronger, but he then heard the sound of what seemed like two engines puffing closer.

Curious, the manager of the Steam Works puffed out of his shed, only to be greeted by a surprise visit from Glynn and a small teal engine he had never seen before. The lobby was dimly lit by now, but it only took a minute for Victor realize that the terrible smell was coming from the teal engine…and that he was covered from buffer to buffer in a peculiar red and black substance.

"Glynn, what are you doing here? …And w-what happened to-?" Victor questioned, his voice stuttering once his eyes averted back to the teal engine.

"He's fine—physically, at least," Glynn replied slowly.

"Hi, I'm Thomas," Thomas greeted with a crooked smile.

"Ok—why is he covered in blood?" Victor couldn't help but ask.

"You seriously don't know why an engine working at the Scrap Yard is covered in blood? Come on, Victor," Glynn pointed out sarcastically, "I brought him here because I need you to give him a new coat of paint."

"Shouldn't you take him to the Wash Down first?"

"They're closed. And I know you have powerful water jets to clean blood off of engines who've been in really fatal accidents, so you're perfectly capable of cleaning him, too."

Victor growled in defeat, unable to deny that Glynn was right, "Fine. I'll have him cleaned up and repainted by morning."

"Good. Don't let him leave until I come by to pick him up." Glynn backed up to leave, but stopped next to Thomas. "And you, listen to everything Victor says."

"Whatever you say, Boss," Thomas answered snidely.

Once Glynn left, Victor stared in disgust at the blood and somewhat dried flesh on Thomas' once vibrant teal paint.

"If you take a picture, it'll last longer," Thomas broke the silence, a smirk bigger plastered on his face.

"That's not what I—it doesn't matter. Come with me," Victor firmly instructed, and led Thomas towards the back of the building; he led him into a completely concreted room with showerheads strewn about metal pipes all across the ceiling and upper walls. Thomas stayed put when Victor told him to remain still, and powerful jets of hot water were fired at Thomas moments later.

He flinched and bit his lower lip when the outer edges of the streams hit his face, but refused to make a sound to signal that he was in pain. Thomas knew he could never show weakness ever again. Even after nearly fifteen minutes of power washing, some of the blood still stuck to him, but the rest of him shimmered after the steam dispersed.

"How did you get so bloody, anyway?" Victor pressed on.

"Glynn says I should never talk about what happens at the Scrap Yard," Thomas replied in disappointment.

"Oh."

Almost instantly, Thomas smiled brightly, "But you seem real trustworthy! Not to give away too much, I basically tore apart an engine from the inside out."

"O-Oh…?" Victor swallowed down a large ball of fear.

"Don't worry, he was already dead." There was an awkward pause. "So, what colors are you gonna give me?"

Thomas was rather restless through the night, especially after being repainted with vibrant blue coloration; Victor told him that it was a popular choice amongst the engines of the Great Western Rails, and that Sir Topham Hatt would greatly appreciate him wearing his railway's colors.

Sir Topham Hatt…I can't wait to meet you! Thomas thought in unkempt excitement, I wonder if he likes maliciously mutilating engines as much as I do…

Suddenly, Thomas' aimless gaze was caught by a snare of sunlight, as the said giant star was slowly rising to start the new day. Time had flown by much faster than Thomas had expected, and he was glad; he couldn't remember the last time he saw daylight.

A snort from a slumbering Victor averted Thomas' attention to him, to which the latter finally remembered that he fell asleep hours ago. And that gave him an idea.

"Glynn never said I couldn't explore outside a bit. And if anyone should get in trouble, it'll be Victor for not watching after me properly," Thomas whispered to himself, and then gasped in realization, "Ooh, maybe he'll be sent to us for punishment!"

So, with that thought, Thomas quietly crept out of the Steam Works without waking Victor, and ventured out to discover more of Sodor on his own. For a while, Thomas meandered in silence and wonder, looking forward to finding other engines that will most likely come to him for a delicious Scrapping. His mouth began to water when he approached a large property with a grand topped with a glass ceiling in the center of it all.

The first thing he spotted was a slightly bigger engine with the same blue coloration as him, so he smiled brightly and quickly approached.

"Hello, Edward!" Thomas greeted.

The other engine stopped shunting a short train of cars when he heard the new voice, but smiled immediately when he saw Thomas, "Oh, hi, Thomas! I haven't seen you in a while. Where have you been?"

"Oh, you know, being useful and contributing to society in any way I can."

"Well, it's really great to see you again, Thomas. I was starting to worry."

Thomas smiled snidely, "You have no reason to worry about me, Edward. I can take care of myself."

"Oh, really? You took care of yourself when you accidentally backed into a train of cars too hard?" Edward subtly reminded Thomas of the time he ran into some cars during his first day on Sodor.

"Careful, Edward. Some people will hold grudges if you taunt them too much," Thomas' once friendly tone quickly changed into a threatening hiss.

"I wasn't taunting you! I was just making a point," Edward quickly retorted before going back to his work.

The said younger engine quirked a brow, "What're you doing?"

"Shunting these trucks out of the way," Edward replied.

"Why?"

"I need to clear the line for the express trains."

"But why so early in the day? The sun isn't even all the way up yet."

"Some people wake up really early, so the express trains have to be ready even earlier."

Thomas finally stopped following Edward at that, allowing the latter to head off and finish his chores. He contemplated what engines Sir Topham Hatt would require once the current engines he is using were no longer useful. He wanted desperately to ask Edward, but he knew he couldn't not only because that would compromise their secret work, but also because Edward wouldn't be able to give him an answer anyway. He wouldn't know he would be promptly replaced after being killed in a heartbeat, so what's the point in asking him? Why ask anyone?

"Heeeeeelp! Help, me! I can't stop!" A familiar voice pierced the air, as a sudden rush of black darted through the yard, the smell of smoke pungent in Thomas' nose.

"James?" Thomas questioned aloud and puffed after him. He was curious because of the smoke that constantly emitted from James. Was he on fire? Would he fatally crash in a fiery explosion? He hoped not.

He eventually caught up with James to find that the source of the smoke was coming from his now flaming brakes.

"What's wrong with your brakes?!" Thomas shouted.

"They're made of wood! I tried to stop, but these damn trucks wouldn't stop pushing me and they caught on fire!" James called back in terror, as a whoosh of flames burst forth and barely licked Thomas' buffers.

"On, on, on!" the trucks taunted before laughing maniacally, failing to notice the danger they were in.

Before Thomas could devise a plan, he noticed a sharp bend fast approaching; he applied his own brakes and hoped for the best for James. Unfortunately, Lady Luck was not on James' side, as he cried out in utter fear when he came off the tracks; skidding face-first through a wooden fence and into a cattle field, creating a deep rut in the dirt and gravel, and scratching and muddying up his ebony paint something awful.

Thomas chuffed forward slowly to examine the carnage, taking in how mangled some of James' wheels, rods and axels had become from the accident. If he didn't know any better, he would say there was no hope for James. And if there was no hope for him, then that means…

Thomas beamed from buffer to buffer.

"Don't worry, James! I'll be right back with some help!" Thomas called reassuringly before puffing away as fast as he could, leaving an unconscious James behind with the curious cattle.

When Thomas retuned with Judy and Jerome the break down train, James was still in a coma-like state. The twin break down engines quickly went to work on carefully lifting James off of the ground and onto a large flatbed. Thomas then coupled himself up to the flatbed and began pulling him away, to which Judy and Jerome were very confused.

"Where are you going?" Judy was first to ask.

"I'm taking him to the Steam Works before it's too late!" Thomas lied.

"What about us?!" Jerome frantically called.

"I'll send for someone to retrieve you, don't worry!"

James slowly awoke with a parched throat, one side of his face aching, and pounding migraine; even after blinking his eyes open, he could barely make out his surroundings. It was dark and the air hung heavy with a metallic smell; it made him want to gag.

A single light switched on, and a small blue engine soon rolled into it with a twisted smile, as he stared up at him with suppressed excitement.

"Thomas? W-Where are we? What h-happened?" James asked meekly, as dark thoughts raced through his mind when he theorized as to where they were.

"So, you do remember me? Huh. I'm surprised considering how much a sinning narcissist you are," Thomas admitted with a grin.

"I'm not a narcissist!" James snapped.

"You're a liar, too."

With that, mechanical whirring could be heard when another light flipped on above James, revealing a large set of smooth and curved blades just a few inches his forehead and cheeks.

"Ever wondered what it's like to be a freshly-peeled potato? Well, you can put that question to rest now—remove the skin!" Thomas giggled before the blades slowly began cutting, peeling his skin back like that of a potato. James shrieked in incomprehensible pain, as blood flowed and pieces of his flesh fell to the floor with a loud flop. Already, the skin of his cheeks and forehead were missing, and only gaping, pulsing and oozing dents were left.

"Oh, come on! We literally just started, and you're already on the verge of bleeding out?! Chivalry really is dead!" Thomas scolded in anger.

"W-Why…are y-y-you…doing this?" James questioned between bloody coughs.

"Because it's my job, you idiot," Thomas answered flatly.

"STOP!"

A commanding voice boomed, echoing off of the walls of the Scrapping Chamber while the blades stopped abruptly. Glynn soon came puffing in heaving, an obvious sign that he had been in a hurry.

"What are you doing?!" Glynn scolded his predecessor.

"I'm Scrapping an engine on my own. Aren't you proud of me?" Thomas asked with high hopes.

"NO! I'M NOT!"

"But…I thought he wouldn't be able to work anymore…"

"Just because an engine has one accident, it doesn't always mean they won't be useful anymore! And it's the Steam Works' job to declare them broken beyond repair, not ours!"

Glynn then went silent while pulling into a siding to gently back into a lever, causing a pair of robotic arms to lower his mask down and fit it onto his face.

"Now, because of you, I have to make it so this never happened," Glynn snarled beneath his mask, and another arm was soon lowered; it held a large syringe with a clear liquid inside within its grasp, and was carefully calibrated into it was located directly above James' left eye.

Without warning, the needle was pushed deep into James' cranium, to which he grunted and whined with a shaky breath. Almost immediately after all of the liquid in the syringe was drained into him, James began slipping into a forced coma; he began to lose all feeling before his eyes rolled back into his skull.

Thomas was terrified of even speaking to Glynn, but he was way too curious not to ask, "W-What…was that?"

"It's a special serum the Scrapping Industry invented in case of accidents like yours," Glynn growled in response, "It causes whomever is injected with it to go into a sort of 'memory-wiping' coma."

"You mean he'll forget who he is?"

"Not at all. It only erases very recent memories, obviously the ones he made at your expense. He'll remember the accident, and nothing else after that. He'll need to be taken to the Steam Works as quickly as possible, so that he can be stitched up before he really does bleed out."

"Ok, I'll go get coupled up to a flatbed, and-."

"No!" Glynn's stern voice stopped Thomas dead in his tracks when he tried exiting the room. "You've done enough today. From now on, you're not going anywhere without my supervision. If I catch you outside by yourself, you will never see the light of day again. Understood?"

Thomas shriveled underneath Glynn's poisonous tone, and even though his face was hidden behind his mask, he could feel his fiery glare burn right through him, "Yes, Mr. Glynn…I'm sorry."

"Shut up and get out."

I'm surprised Glynn gave him another chance after what happened.

Until the next chapter, I'm TRikiD, bye-bye!