Equestrian Rail - The Other Ponies: Tales from My Little Railway

by SONBoomer

First published 12th of September, 2013

What happens if the devious, dastardly and dim-witted Other Railway ends up in the magical land of Equestria? Hilarity (and bad writing) ensues, of course!

Devious Diesel (also known as Diesel the Rank Engine or Diesel the diesel shunter) is diesel engine (No kidding!) who's employed as yard pilot at the Big Fat Station in an unnamed City, located somewhere in Barrow-in-Furness, England.
He's a miserable little engine, who works half-heartedly on the Thin Git's railway, with (or more like against) his dastardly colleges, the other rejects from the saccharine-coated Island of Sodor.
Collectively (at least, in the city council's correctional papers), they are known as 'The Other Railway'.

Twilight Sparkle is a unicorn, who works in Ponyville's library, in the magical land of Equestria, living with her number one assistant, Spike the dragon, and living her life as Princess Celestia's protege, learning about the "Magic of Friendship" with her friends.

Alexei is disgruntled, dimension-traveling demigod, who, along with his brothers, has some important business to attend to.
And both worlds are going to be a part of it.

The fate of... Well, basically, everything is put in the hooves and the buffers of a few friendly ponies and a bunch of dastardly diesels, who have no other choice but to team up in order to save Equestria - and Existence itself - from Certain Doom.

Prologue - Part 1

"Oooouugh..."

I groan. Swift in bed, trying to find a more comfortable position. No. No. No... No! NO!

Blanket slips down. Tug it back. Slips down again.

No bother.

The morning air is cold. I left the window open. Dangit!

Sheet is a tangled mess. Not comfortable.

I yawn, and sit up.

"Morning already?"

Yeah. Another morning. Hopefully, none of us will go loco today, nor we will have to save the world. Again.

I rub my eyes. Not as uncomfortable as you think, even if I have hooves.

I get up, still feeling like my legs are made of led.

I stagger into the bathroom.

Alright.

Sit down.

Think of waterfalls.

Rain pouring down.

Rainbows.

Rainbow fact-- NO!

. . . . .

Finally!

Relief.

Wipe.

Go to sink, wash hooves.

Let's see.

Ruffled mane = good night sleep.

Sweating = rough night.

Reddish eyes = still tired (no question about that),

A highly noticeable wingboner...

WHAT?!

A wingboner?!

Blushing.

Trying to remember last night...

Nothing.

Trying to recall anything from sleep...

Distant...

With the Wonderbolts...

Blush even redder. No one around...? Yes.

OK, let's sit down...

What was it all about?

Let's see...
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.... Heheh...

NO!

Restrain yourself!

Get up!

Splatter cold water into face!

No. Not refreshing.

Just cold.

Shudder.

Wingboner still present.

Wash teeth.

Gurgle.

Spat.

Wipe.

Make breakfast (cornflakes).

Eat.

Check for work order.

Got a week off.

HOTCHAAA!

Brush hair.

Feels nice.

Go to door.

Checking - Wingboner gone.

"Bloody Hell Yes!"

Wait.

'Bloody Hell Yes'?

I'm not THAT much of a cursing type.

Also, "bloody"? Is that even a curse word? I'm confused. Only that weird brown stallion with the Hourglass cutie mark says that, every now and then.

I'm bewildered.

Open door.

Walk to edge.

"HEY, RAINBOW DASH!"

Stop.

Look down.

Scootaloo.

"GOOD MORNING, SQUIRT, WHAT IS IT?"

"YA GOTTA COME TO PONYVILLE! THERE'S SOMETHING GOING ON!"

Bite lower lips.

"IS IT BAD?"

"NO, just... UNUSUAL!"

Small sight of relief.

"OK. I'M COMING DOWN!"

Fly down.

Towards the town.

Cool air brushing against whole body. Feels nice.

Scootaloo follows, using her wings to power her scooter.

Clever girl.

Wonder about what the commotion is.

Begin hoping it's a handsome, muscular pegasi stallion looking for a...

Dropping height.

Shake head and temporal wingboner off.

Make an early resolution about finding a boyfriend.

Arrive to Ponyville.

Go to main square.

"...WHAT THE...?!"

***********************************************************

Wake up.

Yawn.

Stretch forelegs.

Get out of bed.

Stretch entire body.

Out of bedroom.

Down the stairs.

Pass big brother and little sister next to the bathroom. Lil' sis squealing, looking desperate.

Brother... The usual.

"Good mornin' y'all!"

"Mornin' Applejack."

"Gottagogottagogottagogottagogottago!"

Snicker.

Go outside.

To water tank.

Pull lever. It creaks loudly.

Water falls.

Standing, relaxing.

From the house:

"FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"

"Eeyup!"

Chuckle.

Stop.

Grit teeth.

"Horse apples. Gotta go too!"

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Door opens.

"All yours!"

Inside. Quick!

"AAAAaaaah... Goodness! RELIEF!"

Get out.

Others staring.

Quite shocked.

Blush.

"Eheh... 'scuse me."

Get to kitchen.

Find a pear.

Wait, WHAT?!

Pear?

Oh well.

Give it a sniff.

Nothing.

Give it a taste.

Hmmm... Not bad.

Eat it...

Realize!

Run to bedroom.

Put on hat.

. . . . . .

Get outside.

"Applejack! Applejack!"

Little sister comes over.

"Wha' is it, Applebloom?"

She looks excited. I wonder.

"Ya gotta see this, big sis! There's something going on in town!"

My eyes narrow.

"We'll be there right away!"

We ran out.

Down the dusty road, towards town.

There is a large crowd in the town center, and Rainbow Dash is already there.

I meet with her, and move to the source of the commotion.

...WHAT the TARNATION?!

**************************************************************************

As the first rays of Princess Celestia's sun shine through my window, my head pops out from the pillows.

And immediately buckles back.

"Mmmmmmmmmmh..."

I moan.

I've been visiting my friend's dreams all night. Sure, they don't believe in my Fourth Wall powers (heck, they didn't believed in my Pinkie Sense at first), but this is just awesome!

Thought, I'm not sure what to think of Rainbow Dash right now...

Oh well, best not to mention it to her.

I just hope she doesn't remembers.

I open the window, lean out, and take a deep breath...

Sweet, cool morning air.

Like ice creams.

And...

*cough cough cough* *sneeze* *splutter*

EEEYUCK!

EEEW!

Smoke!

Who's smoking?!

Wait. They don't sell cigarettes or anything like that here.

Must be a visitor then!

OMYGOSH! I must throw a par-tey then!

Wait.

There's something odd about this smoke.

Take a whiff.

Eeeugh.

It's...

Thick.

And sooty.

And grimy.

BLEUGH!

And... Oily?

Like... Some sort of fuel, maybe?

But not burned well?

Also, a bit of steam.

But how?

The railway doesn't go trough here.

Yet.

My Pinkie Sense is silent.

Fourth Wall tells me nothing.

I'm worried.

I ran down the stairs, my foster parents yet to wake, and out into the street.

I saw a massive crowd, two of my friends already there.

Then, I saw...

Him...

"...HUH?!"

************************************************************************

I'm woken from my beauty sleep by my little sister.

"Rarity! Rarity! Wake up!"

I groan, and sit up...

"What is it?"

"Eeeek!" she squeals, and hides under the bed.

I groaned again, and took the cucumber off.

"There... Now... What is it, Sweetie Belle?"

She peeks out from underneath, then quickly climbs out.

"There's a great commotion going on at the town square! Everybody's there!"

I frown.

"Even your friends!"

Now, THAT'S different. Maybe Princess Celestia, or Luna is visiting. Maybe another royalty. Maybe.

"Oh my gosh! This is my big chance!"

It so is!

I quickly jump out of the bed, wash my face, my teeth, put some quick make-up on - when you have to hurry, you have to - and some perfume, as I don't have time for a shower.

Little sister is waiting at the front door.

"C'mon! We'll miss it!"

NO! We simply can't!

*Gurgle!*

I frown again. Neither of us had breakfast yet. We can't go there with an empty stomach.

"Shouldn't we eat first?"

She doesn't seems to mind her hunger.

"No! We can have some afterwards!"

I agree.
And, we can always visit Sugarcube Corner. Or ask Applejack.

We head off, fast, but delicately.

Suddenly, it hit me!

I shrieked as I came to a halt.

But it wasn't my mouth!

I just stared.

I lifted my left front leg, and stared at my hoof.

The sound I made, when I stopped...

It sounded like metal!

Screeching on metal!

I was bewildered.

I looked back behind myself.

Sweetie Belle was lying on the ground, front hooves covering her ears, eyes shut...

She opened one eye, then both, then sat up.

"Has it stopped yet?" she asked.

I felt blood rushing into my cheeks.

"Yes."

She shook her head.

"Why did you screamed? Oh!"

She realized.

And quickly, she whipped out a comb from what we would call a pocket (Pinkie Pie calls it "Hammerplace", but she's... Well... Pinkie Pie).

I gotta admit, she worked fast, and it looked just smashing, as I saw it in the pond near by.

We hurried off to town.

Once near the town square, we saw the crowd...

And among them was...

"...WHAHAHAAH!"

**********************************************************************

I felt a small paw tapping on my back...

I turned towards it.

"Angel?" I asked.

It was indeed my little bunny. A bit forceful, I know, but still, my best helper.

And he keeps tapping me, more forcefully.

"What is it, Angel?" I yawn.

My sight is still hazy, but I can still see him pointing towards the door.

"You want me to get out?" I ask, smiling.

He begins to nod, then, upon noticing the shocked look of the other animals, he begins to shake his little head, frantically.
I chuckle, and roll out of bed.

Once outside, Angel began to point towards Ponyville.

"Oh, is there something about?" I asked.

He nodded furiously, and pointed towards it.

I was soon off, leaving Angel in charge of the others for the morning at least.

Once I arrived in town, I was quick to notice the big crowd that gathered around something at the square...

I flied over, and was delighted to see my friends...

Then I saw, why were ponies gathering.

"...What?"

*********************************************************************

"Twilight! TWILIGHT! WAKE UP!"

As if his shouting didn't already wake me up, his nudging made extra sure to knock the dreams out of my eyes.

I shook my head, and sat up.

"Ugh... What is it, Spike?"

I have to give him that he's very sober and vigilant.

He was up, earlier than I am, seemingly ready for anything.

Got out of bed.

Washed my face.

Ate a sandwich.

And all the while...

"TWILIGHT! I'm serious! There's something going over town! We gotta check it out!"

We soon headed out towards the town square.

Once near it, I realized how right Spike was to be this concerned.

The... Being, that stood over the crowd...

...WHO-WHAT IS THAT?!

*************************************************************************

The soaring tall figure howered over the crowd, which kept a safe distance from him.

He was tall, taller than Celestia, presumably as long as the cursed draconequus Discord.

What the many ponies were most surprised about was that this entity stood on it's hind legs, perfectly balanced - although, judging by his body structure, he had been doing that for quite some time by now.

While his limbs were long, his torso seemed relatively small, not too small, thought. He wore clothes, unusual ones:

A thin, yet well-stuffed dark green winter coat, open, revealing the dull black pullover under it, some loose greenish-gray camouflage trousers, sharp, pointy browns shoes with Velcros, and a black Swiss beret on top of his round head.

To be honest, the entire body structure of the visitor was odd:

A round, ball shaped head, either no hair, or well hidden under the cap, no eyebrows, trapezoid-shaped eyes, completely monochrome, just black and white, well defined shoulders, long arms and legs widening from joint to end, slightly, long, pointy fingers, almost like claws, and the upper mentioned big, triangle-based shoes, which seemed to contain a similarly shaped feet within.

"'Allo!" it spoke in a weird accent.

No response.

The being slowly reached up to his head, and scratched the back of it.

"Ummm..." it seemed to be just as confused as the ponies...

"Please...! Move aside a bit, if you will... Coming trough! Ugh!" the Mayor popped out of the crowd like a cork from a bottle.

Standing up, and brushing the dust off from her mane, she glanced at the being.

"...Greetings, dear, uh, visitor" she spoke, with only a hint of uncertainty "Welcome to Ponyville!"

The being smiled, kindly.

"Greetings." he replied promptly "You must be the Mayor, I assume?"

"Well... Yes indeed..." the latter replied "And who may we respect in you?"

The being grinned.

"My name is Alexei. I'm an inter-dimensional traveler. I've came to meet your princess... -es..."

The ponies gasped.

The next second, a young cyan mare with a rainbow colored mane and tail came up into Alexei's nose-less face.

"Back off, chump! You'll hafta fight trough ME if you want to do anything with the princess!" she sneered.

"But I..." before the 'traveler' could continue, another pegasi, this one yellow with a long pink mane and tail, flew over to them, covering up the cyan one's mouth.

"What she meant to say was, that, we would really appreciate if you'll be so kind as to explain why you want to visit our princess in such a haste..." she spoke, timidly.

Alexei smiled grandly.

"I was just about to..."

Again, he was interrupted, when a pink pony jumped up to the top of his hat.

"OOOOH! Are you from the Audience?! Really, you are an inter-dimensional traveler? This must be your first time in Ponyville!" *le gasp* "Maybe even your first ever time in Equestria! I must trow a party for you!" she babbled on her high pitched voice.

"Look, I'm really in a hurry, and..."

Again, the figure was cut off by another pony, this time, an orange one with blonde mane and tail, wearing a brown cowgirl/farmer hat.

"Now, sugahcube! Get off the poor fella'! Look at 'im, he's all skin an' bones! First thing first, he should eat sum' refreshin' apples, and explain why he's here..."

Again, the being smiled...

"Oh, that would be lovely! I sure am peckish after my journey, and..."

Once again, he was cut off, by something he first believed was a giant marshmallow, until he realized it was another pony, with an elegant mane-due.

"No no no no NO! This will never do!" she spoke hectically "I mean, just LOOK at your clothes! You definitely SHOULDN'T visit the Princess dressed like this! Oh, if I can get some scales from you, I'm sure I'll be able to design a proper clothing for you!"

The figure's face turned serious.

"Look, ma'am, I appreciate all of you help, but I'm really in a hurry! Besides, these are my favorite clothes, and I'm kind of fond of them - definitely not afraid to show them to the Princess! So, the clothes stay! And that's that!"

While Rarity momentarily fainted (onto her couch, of course), Twilight jumped out of the crowd, with Spike on his back.

"DON'T PANIC, EVERYPONY!" she yelled "I'M SURE WE COULD SETTLE THINGS PEACEFULLY!"
The traveler lost patience.

"WE SURE COULD IF YOU LOT WOULD JUST SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME FOR A DAMN SECOND!" he roared.

Everybody turned silent.

Forcefully, but not harshly, Alexei removed Pinkie Pie from his head, and pushed the two pegasi down from his face, onto the ground.

Once all on the ground, the six ponies lined up with the Mayor, looking at him with what appeared to be puppy eyes.
Clearing his throat after the outburst, he began to speak again.

"Sorry about that. But, now that you all listen, let me explain. As I've already mentioned, I'm Alexei, and I'm an inter-dimensional traveler. My job is to keep balance between the different zones, timelines, and dimensions that coexist within this stream of multiverses. Recently, I've noticed that a group of... "Trespassers" decided to visit your dimension, of course, they could only do this by going trough the ones that distance you from their. And that is quite a lot of timelines, alterations, and whatnot. We still have approximately a week or so before they arrive here. Now, it isn't likely that they're hostile, but only one of them wants to actually visit this world, the others are simply after that person, and will be extremely pissed once they arrive here. And that's the point. Their entire existence here may change the fate of your world greatly. And that one I know! If it wouldn't be like that, I would appear in an incarnation that fits in your world, you know, a pony, or something. But since I'm in my normal, humanoid form, that means that something is a BOUND to happen, and I'm not sure how it'll go! So I must visit your Princess to make sure everyone's ready! Also, simply the fact that I'm in my normal form and not in a version that fits your world, means that I'll be involved GREATLY. So... Can you lead me to your Princess?"

Everybody, pardon, everyPONY just stared at him...

"Wow. You've must of hit your head hard..." Rainbow Dash spoke up "You make less sense than that Doctor guy."

The traveler's eyes widened.

"The DOCTOR is here?!" he gasped "Perfect!"

"But, you know, he's a... Pony... Like us..." the cyan pegasi added.

"Oh..."

"Anyways..." Twilight joined in "I can send a letter to Princess Celestia if you wish...

"An' while you're still here, eat sum'thin'!" Applejack added.

"Oh, thank you, that would be delightful!" Alexei replied, smiling again.

As Twilight went along with the Mayor for a pen and papers, the crowd began to slowly break up, the five other ponies still remaining...

"You could also explain yourself a bit more... Clearly." said the rainbow pegasi "You haven't said much with all that gibberish about dimensions and stuff..."

"Oh, alright, I'll explain!"

***************************************************************************

"...And you see, that's how it is." the figure finished, also finishing his apple pie.

The five ponies looked at him, absolutely bewildered. What they just heard was the most complex scientifically jabber that one could find in High-University studies and science-fiction books. AND it all made sense.

"Well, tie me up an' call me Ginger, I've never knew our world was so tiny." Applejack muttered, summing up what they all thought afterwards.

"Oh well, even the smallest counts..." Alexei smiled "And this was a damn good apple pie. I'm guessing this is your specialty..." he added, smiling.

"Well, yes, among other things involving apples." the orange mare replied, a hint of a blush passing over her face.

Rarity, who has been silent for some time, also spoke up.

"So, you're a GOD as well?"

The others stared.

"Yeeeaaah, I was about to get that part." the traveler grinned "How did ya figured out?"

"Easy. An oddly built body, the most casual clothes I've ever seen, traveling trough the larger part of what we can still comprehend of the world without any equipment, AND having a VAST knowledge in both the entire... What did you called it? OMNIVERSE'S history and how things work. My..." Rarity was taken "The only other person I've heard talking this way was the Doctor."

"Tell me, does this "Doctor" has anything unusual habit, like an odd accent, anything revolving around time, or something like a blue cabin of some sort, perhaps asking for random things to save the world?"

The five mares exchanged looks.

"Well, DUH!" Pinkie Pie exclaimed "He lives in a weird blue shed that barely looks enough for ONE pony to fit in, yet whenever someone speaks with him when he's in, it always has an echo to it..."

"He does have an odd accent, li'e this, speakin' veary caerefulley, and usin' stuff li'e "fancy that", "brilliant" and "smashing"!" Rainbow Dash added.

Rarity frowned.

"I usually use that last one." then, her face lifted "Also, he often asks for random things which he claims he needs to save the world with, like you said."

"He talks abou' a LOOOT of crayze thin', involving time, space, continuum (whatever that is), and traveling with that shed of his..." Applejack joined in "He actually named it! Now wha' was it...? Something beginning with 'T'." her eyes widened "He even has a hourglass fer a cutie mark!"

"Also, I don't know if you noticed, but there are a lot of ponies resembling him, only slightly different, but all bare the same cutie mark." Fluttershy added "He usually hangs out with Ditzy Doo, and she said he's a time traveler, claiming himself to be a "Time Lord", and he also claims to be over 900 years old, and has a great dislike for pears."

After the explanation, they all looked at the thinking Alexei contently.

They were more than alarmed when he finally spoke up:

"Well, FANCY THAT! Doctor Who! Err... Whooves! Here! Hmmm... Must be his new settling base, if he's a pony. Ah well... All in good time..."

As he finished muttering, the orange mare leaned closer.

"Are yah plannin' somethin', sugah'." she asked, eyeing up the sitting figure.

"Maybe." the traveler replied with acted innocence, then picked up a Cheshire cat grin, leaning into the pony's face "Your problem with it?"

While Applejack meekly stepped back, Twilight entered the room, along with Spike.

" Well, I've sent a message, and the Princess has already replied."

"AND?" the others asked in unison.

"I'm afraid, she won't be able to see into this matter right now, first possible time being three days from now."
"Oh well." Alexei shrugged.

"So, anyway... Mind telling us more about what's going on..." Twilight asked with a timid smile.
The others just groaned.

Prologue - Part 2

As the day turned to night, the visitor and the six mare (and the baby dragon), got up from their seats, and went off into the night.

The ponies promised Alexei a tour around Ponyville, while he promised to let Spike sleep on top of his hat, which he enlarged using his powers...

As they walked down the streets, the mares found themselves in the line of fire of Twilight's auxiliary (read 'unnecessary') explanation.

"...The night is, quite obviously, the best time to for stargazing Princess Luna's work is magnificent, but, due to it's nature, can only be seen at night. This part of the day is also good for quiet, calming walks, you can just relax, and enjoy the silence."

The traveler snorted, trying to cover his chuckle...

"WHAT silence? You've been going on and on AND ON 'til this moment, little pony." he snickered.

The others giggled as Twilight turned her face from them, covering an embarrassed blush and an annoyed look.
Just then, they heard the sound of wings flopping before them.

Looking forward, the ponies gasped, and immediately 'squat down', bowing their heads towards the new visitor, soon followed by Alexei getting on half-knees and bowing forward, one arm bent behind his back, the other across his chest.

"Stand up, my dear friends." a calm, yet authorial, deep female voice called out. As they stood up, their gazes met with the eyes of an ebony-blue alicorn mare, her mane seemingly made of flowing, dark ether of space, naturally tinted blue with sparkling mica in it, thus resembling the night sky. She worn a tiara of some sort, along with bluish glass hoof-shoes. Her cutie mark appeared to be a crescent moon on a black splodge. Across her gently heaving chest was what appeared to be kerchief or the front of a mantle, dark as her fur and also bearing the crescent moon of her cutie mark.

As the six mare's stood up, Twilight began to spoke, but was interrupted.

"Princess..." she began.

"Princess Luna, I believe!" Alexei cut her off "Well, good evening, Your Majesty. - and he bowed again."

"Ah, charmed to meet you!" the night's princess replied "And you are...?"

"Alexei, princess! But I'm also widely known as 'The Traveler'..." the figure smiled.

"Aaah, yeees." Luna smiled back "The Doctor and his assistant of this world had told me so much about you."

"Really?" the visitor's face lit up "I'm glad to hear that, Your Majesty."

"Please, call me Luna." the princess replied, blushing slightly.

The Traveler smiled back, then a slight frown appeared on his face.

"I've also heard The Master is in this world as well." he uttered, glancing around cautiously.

"He is, but he lost most of his memory in this form, and he now believes that the Doctor is merely an old friend of him." the Princess replied, still smiling. Alexei gave a relieved sigh.

"That's good to hear. But what about you?"

Luna's smile turned even brighter, the light of the moon shining from her eyes.

"This world is wonderful. I DID made a few teeny-weeny MAJOR mistakes a thousand years ago or so..." she admitted, sheepishly looking away "But it's all well now, thanks to these grand six mares behind you." she continued, smiling at her friends behind the figure.

The ponies, on the other hand, felt a bit off, after hearing EVERY part of the conversation. They all knew the weird pony know as the Doctor, and recalled the image of another, quite familiar looking blue stallion with a blonde mane and tail, also having a hourglass cutie mark, whom they've all seen at the disastrous Grand Galloping Gala.

But the most queerest of all was that Luna KNEW about this 'Doctor', and she was also aware of the fact he was friends with the wall-eyed pegasus Ditzy Doo (alias Derpy Whooves), and the blue unicorn known as "Romana Colgate", whom also bared a hourglass cutie mark.

However, the next sentence caught them off guard and knocked them up (waked them) from their thoughts.

"Oouh, what a peculiar hat you have there, Traveler!" Luna cooed, eyeing up the sleeping dragon on top of the figure's hat.

"It's the latest fashion, courtesy of Miss Rarity and Miss Twilight Sparkle." Alexei lied, smirking. He then suddenly squat down, allowing the princess to get an eyeful of his head cover.

What she saw was a baby dragon, curled up into an oval shape, snoozing quietly with it's cheeks rosy, hugging his tail...

"A little angel when asleep, I hear them say all the time." the Traveler smiled slyly.

Luna took a gasping inhale and let out a quiet squee of delight.

Suddenly, a cyan pegasus showed up beside them.

"Gee, folks, I don't want to interrupt this comely scene." she spoke, then noticed spike, and quickly whispered 'OhMyGoshhe'sSoADDORABLE!', before shaking her head and straightening her voice - So, I REALLY don't want to break up anything, but, I don't know if you've noticed yet that... How should I put it? WE'RE RIGHT FREAKING BESIDE YOU?!

Rainbow Dash's yell had not only woken up Spike, but successfully knocked Alexei and Luna of their feet - hooves.

As they sat up on the ground, they've came face to face with the cyan pegasus, looking down at them with a blank look.

Although initially feeling anger, Luna only smirked. and took a quiet, deep breath.

"WE THANK THOU FOR WARNING US ABOUT THEE ACT OF UNFORGIVABLE IGNORANCE, FAIR MARE RAINBOW DASH!" for once, a strong urge of laughter could be heard in Luna's Royal Canterlot Voice.

"YES, IT IS GOOD TO SEE HOW WELL SOCIALIZED THIS HUMBLE COMMUNITY IS." Alexei added with an unearthly roar that still had the tranquility of the mighty ocean.

The other five mares couldn't stop laughing as they scraped their friend off from the nearby house's wall...

Other ponies came out, and gazed with utter surprise, as they saw their beloved nightly princess and the mysterious visitor guffawing their lungs out in each other's arms like old friends, as the baby dragon slept soundly on the Traveler's hat, while five of the six mares were giggling as they supported their sixth friend, who was stumbling around with a goofy look on her face.

Soon, the townsfolk began to simper, and a bit later, nearly the entire town was filled with laughter...

******************************************************************************

"So, do you have any, like, GODLIKE powers?" Spike asked. With all that laughter, he was wide awake, and Twilight expected that she'll be doing all the work tomorrow.

"Well, it's complex." Alexei admitted, drinking his black tea. Fluttershy made sure they all had the drink they've fancied. Twilight drank some cheap normal tea, nothing special, Luna requested some special tea, made with the spices 'Shy thought only Zecora uses, AND with milk, both Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash asked for a something strong and sugary, so she made them some Taurus tea (which was basically pure, chemically clean Taurin mixed with sugar and the cheap tea Twilight was having), and soon, they were all hyped, Applejack asked for the classic apple and cinnamon tea, while she herself and Rarity had some refreshing green tea. She also made some black tea for Alexei, and followed his odd receipt to make Spike some "Nutritious Noble Gas Plasma Tea", and he summoned some elements for that, VERY cold, frozen pieces of glass he call solid Xenon, Krypton, and Argon. They smelled weird, looked weird, and she didn't dared to taste the gloving, flame-like tea, but apparently, Spike loved it.

"Please, do tell..." she spoke up now, leaning closer, before taking aback "That is, if you wish, of course..."

The visitor smirked at the yellow pegasus' timidness, then, his face turned serious, as he began.

"My powers could be separated into four manifestations. One is simply power, sort of stunt magic, made for visuals, feats, et cetera, et cetera. The other three manifestations are strongly linked together, and coexist in almost all cases, as they balance each other. The very crude, basic form of MOST of these powers could be found in anybody, pardon, anypony. I only have just a LITTLE more, but I have mastered them beyond all mortal experts of them."

He paused for a moment.

"You should know, that apart from being a normal god, in many worlds, I myself manifested as an evil entity, an anti-god, often titled as "the Devil", and my reign is in most cases known as a fiery, painful place full of suffering souls, known as 'Hell'. Thought I no longer mind what the people of the actual world I'm visiting call me, let me state it to you now, loud and clear, that I'm NOT evil, or at least not necessarily. After all, I'm nothing more than the God of Denial, the sort of reasonable stable point the humble people of each world need, a cruel, yet, sober reality to spice up their 'Eden'."

Another impressive pause.

"My powers, as such, are split up in a form reflecting my nature. There's a positive side, a negative side, and a third... Side. Y'know, the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

The 'Bad' is often thought to be the strongest, and this side's members are called "The Elements of Hatred". Not a very encouraging name, is it?
The elements are:

Fear, the most ancient, often forming in it's two variants: Fright, also known as Horror, and Dread, also known as Terror. We'll return to the latter later on.

The next one is Fury, also known as Anger, a fierce, yet, majestic element.

Third one is Sorrow, a surprisingly strong, but also calm element.

Fourth in line is Apathy, a dull, overly tranquil element.

The fifth is Grief, not to be mixed up with the third one, as Grief is much more hysteric and also vivid, a force to be recognized.

Number six is Misery, a tricky sort which would take up the faces of all the other elements just to avoid showing itself, while it's always suffering.

The last one is Terror, an almighty, glorified, overpowered element, stronger than all the others, yet, it cannot exist on it's own, and that is very well shown in both the other elements, and within itself."

He examined the mares' expressions, then continued:

"The 'Good side' is the polar opposite of the Bad, and they always exist along side the 'Bad side', to keep the balance. Their presence COULD be HINTED in the Dark elements. The Light ones are know as 'The Elements of Defiance'.

Fear's opposite is Valor, they are equally strong, but Valor is more vigorous and lively than the icy Fear. Also known as 'Bravery'.

The opposite of Fury is Conciliation, also known as 'Forgiveness', also majestic, but more bright and open.

Opposing Sorrow is Joy, both equally calm, collected, and beautiful in their own ways, through Joy is more playful at times. It's other name is 'Happiness'.

Apathy's mirrored by Sensibility, the 'Belief' element, one of the most strongest ones, as Apathy is nearly as strong as Terror. Also known as 'Humility'.

Grief's counter is Rejoice (yes, that's a noun as well), an element that is often underestimated, yet never to be forgotten, as Grief could prove itself to be stronger than what any could bare without something to restrain it. Also know as 'Mirth'.

Misery meets it's match in the ever changing Delight, which is also know on the more sultry side as 'Pleasure'. But unlike Misery's cowardish mascaras, it simply shows multiple sides of itself, revealing it's opposite as well.

And finally, the surly Terror is dwarfed by the element of Freedom, which is exactly what Terror tries to squash with it's full existence, along with all the other Light elements, as they also make up Freedom as much as the Dark ones make up Terror. It cannot truly exist without the others, which leads us to the... Ugh... 'Ugly' side."

He took a deep breath:

"The "Ugly side" consists of seven autologic elements separate from each other, too grim to be on the Light side, too weak to be on the Dark side, but if put together, these elements create a force much more stronger than the other two sides, so they must be contained, stuck between the positive and negative elements, which often makes people believe they're neutral and thus optimal."

He thought for a moment

"They're not. And to prove this even further, they're called "The Elements of Loathing".

The first one is Dare, a warped element made from Fear and Valor, with a daredevil nature, and lack of self respect, very violent and dim-witted.

The second is Disdain, a malicious one, formed from Fury and Conciliation, considered unstable and irritable, prone to sulking.

The third one is considerably worrying, ALMOST the most dangerous: Insanity. With Sorrow's depressive nature and Joy's jubilant behavior, this deranged element is truly horrifying, not to mention unpredictable.

The fourth one is Ignorance, which unlike the simply existing Apathy and the instinctive Sensibility, could be forced and forceful, yet, it shares the awareness of the Light one and the indifference of the Dark one.

The fifth one is the wicked Gloat, a twisted, oddly gleeful element, the unholy "lovechild" of Grief and Rejoice, with faked nobility, unlikable by nature, disagreeable with a superiority complex.

The sixth one is Spite, a malevolent, groveling element, denying most traces of the Dark and Light ones, Misery and Delight, most notably Misery's own humility and Delight's placid dexterousness, making it a surprisingly strong element.

The seventh and last one is Rage, a deadly combination of Terror's totalitarian nature and Freedom's dynamic behavior. Also known as Disorder, breaking the "Last one only has one name" rule, this element's title speaks for itself. It dwarfs the force of all the other derailed elements, known as the Dim ones. It's powers can only be contained by all the positive and negative elements, including Freedom and Terror. It can and WILL exist without the other six elements, and once released, only Terror could stop it, and only Freedom could tame it."

He shook himself, much like a dog, as if the bad thoughts were but water on his fur.

"The elements of Hatred, Defiance, and Loathing can be found in every and each individual in every and each world of the Omniverse, some stronger, some weaker, some better, some worse, some enlightened, some embittered, some... Deranged."

He shuddered again.

"But the truth about these elements is what makes people fear them the most: No matter how Light, Dark or Dim, the manifestations of any of these elements in one person is NOT a mental instability, NOT a supernatural possession and NOT a secret side of said person. No. The elements, both good, bad, and ugly, manifest themselves in the TRUE persona of any, only revealing how people could change, while they're still their self all the time. Thus, they could become their own hero, their own nemesis... And their own fear."

He suddenly became earnest.

"I possess all of them along with my own powers, and I usually call their combined force "The Order of Chaos"."

The others sat silently around their new friend, the Space Lord, the Traveler, the God of Denial and the barer of the "Order of Chaos".

All of this information was hard to digest, and it was so much that in order to comprehend the weight of it, their body gave a repulsive response.

"OW!" they all cried out, putting their hooves to their foreheads, as Fluttershy offered:

"I'll get the Migraine pills."

A bit later, when everypony was sober and painless again, and Luna had left to lower the Moon, they still sat around in the Library.

"Sooo..." Rarity began after she sat still while Spike squirmed himself to him and Twilight, nestling his body comfortably, between the two mares he loved.

"So what?" the Traveler replied, smiling at the adorable scene.

"What are these "trespassers" like?" the white unicorn asked.

Alexei gave a faked frown, then explained:

"Well, it's funny, and I think, if I'd hear this from someone else, I think that person had went mad, or has some sort of strange obsession."

"Why is that?" Twilight asked, suddenly interested.

"Weeeell... It's hard to say." the figure explained, scratching his head "So let's put it this way: They're inanimate objects that came alive, along with a soul, nature and personality..."

"Inanimate objects..." Rainbow Dash pondered "You mean, like pencils, books rocks, or..."

"...And a face..."

"...Or not. So, they're not small. What are they?"

"Machines."

"Robots?" Pinkie Pie asked.

"No, not really... Just... Living machines. Mortal Engines, if you will."

"But what sorta' machines, sugahcube?" Applejack asked.

"Wait and see..." Alexei smirked before chuckling.

Silence fell, as the mares were deep in their thoughts...

Then Fluttershy asked:

"When you listed up the "Order of Chaos"... Why did you gave them "personalities"?"

The others only stared at their friend, before they turned towards the visitor. His face showed nothing but seriousness.

"The reason, my little ponies, is because these elements are within EVERYONE. BUT, through my life so far, and BELIEVE me, that's a LONG time we're talking about, I've NEVER seen anyone, ANYONE, who had the Order of Chaos manifest in themselves... As you and the "trespassers"."

The ponies gasped.

Alexei continued:

"While they're not evil or anything worse than just being... Utter bastards, they possess the Negative elements, the Dark ones greatly, in some cases, more than one possesses the same."

He raised his nonexistent eyebrows.

"You lot? You possess the Positive elements, the Light ones, but there's one barer amiss."

The others looked at each other.

"Who?" Pinkie Pie asked.

"The barer of the Element of Sensibility, slash Humility, slash Belief."

"Why? What do we possess?" Twilight asked "We do possess our world's main source of power: The Elements of Harmony."

Alexei gave it a thought.

"From the Elements of Defiance, you possess..." he then smirked "Ah, but I shouldn't say. I would spoil the "surprise"."

"What surprise?" Pinkie asked, suddenly energized.

"Wait and see..." the Traveler chuckled, then turned serious, once again "What's important is, what could happen if these 'visitors' arrive..."

"Why?" Twilight asked.

"Because if they arrive, inadvertently, your Elements of Defiance and their Elements of Hatred will intervene, turning either you, or them, into the Elements of Loathing, which will have catastrophic results..."

The six mares began to cower, as Alexei continued, his voice becoming theatrical and announcing...

"As it is written by the Book of the Ancients, that once the offspring of Time, Space, Matter and Energy, bearing the descendant forms of the Eternal powers of Shape, Rhyme, Reason, Rationality, Normalcy, Limitation, Purpose, Will and Essence shall clash upon the highest of the chosen Three Worlds!"

And more hysterical and threatening:

"Shall they clash, and the said world will shatter in the great streams of existence, erasing all that it's worth in the entire Creation, deleting all timelines back to where All Paths started, beginning a New, More clear world which will be based on entire new elements and forces, for the sake of this dreadful cataclysm never to happen again!"

...And more distraught and bedlamite:

"SHALL THE ELEMENTS OF HATRED AND DEFIANCE MEET THEIR MATCH IN EACH OTHER ON THE FIELDS OF EQUESTRIA, AND THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT WILL BE SCATTERED, IT'S MORTAL AND IMMORTAL INHABITANTS DRAGGED TO THE DEPTHS OF THE AGONIZING PURGATORY, WHERE THEY WOULD PAY FOUR THEIR NEGLIGENCE AND DERELICTION TOWARDS THE SIGNS OF THE GREAT CATACLYSM, SUFFERING FOREVER AND EVER IN THE MOST EXCRUCIATING PAINS, FOR ALL OF ETERNITY! WHEN THE DARK AND LIGHT ONES MERGE, PULLING THE DIM VEIL OVER THE WORLD, SHALL THE ANCIENT GODS TAKE WHAT'S RIGHTFULLY THEIRS, DESTROYING ALL THAT THEIR SUBJECT CREATED TO BURY THEM, INCLUDING THEMSELVES!
THE END OF EXISTENCE SHALL BEGIN...!"

He was bellowing at the end, his face contorted into a mixture of disgust, rage and terror. his eyes bulging wide, mouth thin as knife's edge in a wide frown, face distended vertically, as lightning cracked behind him.

All six mares were now cowering on the floor, eyes shut tight, ears hanging down, tail laying close to the body. Spike, who had woken up by the shouting, took one look at the distorted face of the visitor, and collapsed back onto the floor, unconscious.

Suddenly, the thunder and lightning stopped, and Alexei was as calm as the mighty ocean, once again.

"That is..." he spoke "If the Eighth and Ninth Element doesn't exist here."

Slowly, the six mares looked up.

"T-T-Th-The E-E-Eighth a-a-and N-N-Ninth E-E-Ele-Elem-Element?" Twilight stuttered.

The Traveler smiled.

"Yes. The Element of Force - usually, a level-headed, yet strong personality carries it, and the Element of Knowledge, an outsider sort of persona, who's both wise, and practical - I've felt both of them among the visitors, and here, when I entered this world, and I saw them right away, when I arrived..."

The others looked up, curiously.

"Who is he... Or she?" Rainbow Dash asked.

"Well, following the slightly obvious unwritten matriarchic rules of this world, I can tell you that both the missing element, and the eighth one is a 'she'."

"But who are they? Are they mares?" Rarity asked.

And once again, they had to deal with the chuckle of the mysterious figure...

- Wait and see...

Prologue - Part 3

...He was apparently on a VERY peculiar land...

The ground looked like a rugged carpet, made of stone, stretching as far as the eye can see, forming into a small hillside if you looked towards the right... And towards the left... Well, the land seemed to succumb to the great skies above...

The sky was odd, too... All black and static, no stars, no planets, no NOTHING. Blank. Honestly, the only thing INTERESTING in this... STRATA, were the towers...

Yup, the towers...

Made from an unknown metal, corroding bright red, these constructs looked like some weird high voltage electricity pylons... Not that the National Grid would ever use such things... They were fairly flimsy, shabby looking things, no idea who could have designed them...

Escher, probably...

It was a miracle they didn't toppled over in the strong wind...

He ducked again, hooves over head, as another object flew trough the area, entering and leaving with an explosion of bright light and sound. He glanced up between his hooves...

The object was a spaceship of some short, a clam-shaped one with what appeared to be a midget Easter Island Stonehead on it's "front"...

It rocketed trough the sky, swirling around the pylons like crazy, the driver definitely having trouble controlling it's vehicle. The barren meadow of pylons was a decompression-station, a decommissioned time and space zone that no longer kept up with the rest of the succumbed worlds of the Strata-system... It was left abandoned eons ago, but, mostly due to the fact that time doesn't existed in these zones, many architectures survived trough "nonexistence". A few industrial facilities, run-down agricultural compartments... Strangely, while most commercial buildings were made in absolute Brutalism, the residential ones, apartment blocs, skyscrapers and such were built in an extravagant and unrestrained non-Euclidean geometry that looked absolutely ghastly in the state of frozen decay it was suspended...

Whatever was the reason they abandoned this place, it was most likely due to heavy traffic.

Timeline and Zone Trespassers often dared to tamper with the energetic waves of the "Dimensional Cracks and/or Leaks", which often led to their disintegration, and the actual trespassing itself was followed by above mentioned light and sound effects...

THESE trespassers, however, were not the case...

They were pursuing one of their members, and kept causing serious electro-magnetic disturbances in the air...

He could taste a certain metallic taste in his mouth, as his nostrils filled with the unsound smell of electricity...

And it was also quite worrying that the last trespasser, coming from a most dangerous wormhole between the levels, though clearly NOT a part of the group he'd been pursuing, was even more rough with it's flight... It hit the wires between to pylons, just as it exit the decompression zone, making bright white sparks flicker in the air... The tower closer to the exit point shook, then, after a few minutes, it snapped in half, and collapsed with a series of loud metallic clanks and screeches...

After the cacophony was over, he could finally stand up... All was silent now, but he had also lost track of the trespassers... He could hear voices from the collapsed pylon, but he decided to leave them for now... This crack-zone was in no need of saving, and he wasn't a fan of euthanasia, especially if it meant the destruction of an entire strata. Even if it was a fairly "quirky" one...

Sighing, he left, climbing back up the hill, into the nearest town, where he had left the TARDIS.

The Interstrata war had probably raged here as well, as the buildings were more destroyed than decaying... He also noticed a mortally high level of radiation in the air, but since time was frozen here, he shouldn't be worried of the ionizing particles... Right?

Entering the TARDIS, he carefully typed the coordinates of his present time - actually, scratch that - base of operation world. And left...

With a very well-known zooming sound, an odd building appeared in the back end of the impasse Melancholy Interwall, found between the train station and the Post office's warehouse. It's oddity didn't really came as much as from it's alienage than from it's obsolescence. It looked like an old Police Booth from roughly a hundred years before, when the Canterlot region made the Stalliongrad province one of it's satellites, the final one, in a bloodless overthrow of the despotate in control. There was a large outbreak of crime and violence in both regions, not to mention street riots. Soon, Police Booths were deployed so that the local authorities could act faster. Fifty years afterwards, the riots finally ceased, and many Booths were decommissioned and scrapped, but a few still remained, some preserved, some turned into phone boxes (the more unfortunate ones into stabilized porta-loos), some still intact and in working order (some vandalized), and some working as miniature museums 'bout that period of time.

But they were only located in larger cities (Canterlot, most importantly), so it was quite surprising when a certain grey pegasus with a dirty-golden yellow mane came across one in the humble town of Ponyville. Everyone WOULD'VE knew her by her cutie mark: bubbles.

But instead, she was known by her walleyes. Not that she really minded it. Trough the jibes and sobriquets hurt a tad bit. Or was it a tad lot?

She was known by many by her more sophisticated nickname "Ditzy Doo", trough most people still called her Derpy.
Not that the word meant anything, but it sorta described her personality. She WAS bubbly, so to speak, and one heck of a klutz at times. But she was more than willing to help in all cases - even being a bit forceful, too - and had a heart of gold, anyway.

Her house was around the corner, but she often spent her time in the warehouse's humble loft, peaking out trough the ventage, waiting for the Doctor to arrive.

The Doctor, often called Doctor Whooves by the residents of Ponyville, was odd sort, trough fairly intelligent, he seemed to be a bit of an airhead, still, as if not being completely used to be a pony. But he was kind, light-hearted fellow, all the same... He lived in the old Police Booth at the end of Melancholy Interval, which, as Derpy could tell by now, was bigger on the inside.

The "met" blue cabin sometimes just disappeared, leaving with an ominous zooming. Derpy knew that it was in those moments her friend had left off to travel trough time and space, saving people from certain, impending doom, and making things right.

And like many times before, as she saw the TARDIS appear out of the blue (no pun intended), she raced straight towards it, not noticing that she burst trough the railing of the air intake (again).

By the time the door opened, she was already standing front of it, holding a freshly made batch of muffins (she was an expert in those).

"Ah, Ditzy! Glad to see you!" he greeted her with a warm smile. He really liked this queer little mare. She surely brought a smile to anyone's face (well, ALMOST anyone's face).

"'ow waw wouw dwaw, dwowtow?" she asked sweetly, with the bag of muffins still in her mouth...

"Hmmm... Fine, I guess..." the Doctor replied, taking the bag from her mouth (making both of them blush lightly, as he still didn't learned to use his hooves that easily, so he used his mouth, which came VERY close to Derpy's), an walked inside the TARDIS, followed by an eager (and quite startled) pegasus...

Once they finished the muffins, the Time Lord described the world he visited. After a good hour of speech, he turned to his intensively listening assistant.

"Well?" he asked.

"What's a... Strata?" she asked back.

The Doctor facehoofed, then just sighed, smiling and shaking his head... That was until he heard a familiar chirping sound...

Turning to his saddlebag dropped on the floor, he picked out a noisy device...

And gasped!

"They're HERE!" he shouted, and ran off, holding the machine in his mouth...

"Who are?" Derpy asked, taking the device in one hoof, and the Doctor in the other, as she flew of, logically following the arrow on the tiny screen of the gadget.

"The trespassers! They're here!"

******************************************************************************

"CHRIST Almighty, that WAS quick!"

The sudden blurt from the Traveler had woken up Twilight from her daydream...

"Who's Christ?" Spike asked, also looking up from the list the purple pony had shoved into his hands.
"A supposed son of THE God in one of the worlds I came from." Alexei replied, putting his coat on.
"And WHAT was quick?"Twilight asked, also standing up.

"The trespassers!" the figure replied, already outside the library "They've arrived sooner than I expected!" then, he mumbled something that only he could hear "So much for a long buildup in the beginning!"

The news, albeit no word was spoken, soon spread through town. Everyone was tidying and cleaning their houses, expecting the "Trespassers" to take shelter in their humble homes.

Well, almost everyone.

"Wha' do yah mean, 'I shall go'?" Applejack snapped, watching her family doing all the cleaning up, and sending HER away!
"Now, now, Applejack, that nice Mr. Alexei sayed that ya'r role is import'nt, so ya'll better be off to meet with the "v'sitors"." Granny Smith replied.

It was one of those moments where Applejack's jaw literally hit the ground...

"Grannee Smith..." she stammered "Do yah know everythin'?"

"Hehee... Less than what you'd expect..." her grandmother replied, chuckling...

"Yah shall go, Appl'jack!" her sister encouraged "Mahbe som' of the v'sitors could help us out! Who knows, mahbe they bring some fut'ristic, ahdvanced technology that could help Sweet Apple Acres. Our income coul' go skyrocketin'!" she added.

Big Macintosh just stared blankly at the floor he was mopping, then, lifting his gaze, he smiled, sharing his opinion on the topic:

"Eeyup!"

So Applejack left the farm, still sulking a bit. She did, however, hoped that Apple Bloom was right, and that at least ONE of the visitors - even through they were "mortal engines", as the Traveler described them - would help out the Apple family's business... There has been a bit of stagnation on the market, due to the bad weather caused by an unfortunate accident at the weather factory near Cloudsdale. A rainbow refinery, which also produced lightnings as byproduct, had a serious malfunction in one of it's distilizers, causing an explosion in the refinery block, No. 4, and allowing massive amounts of pure licenta radiation escape into the environment, causing a massive disruption in weather schemes made ahead as far as 5 years!

A long debate had already started about whether rainbows are a necessary part of the weather in general, and rumors of Cloudsdale building 'Orbitary Rainbow Annihilators' began to spread. The entire anti-rainbow agenda was pushed by unicorns and a few wealthier earth ponies, along with a few pegasi anti-weapon groups which prospered on the rumors.
Thankfully, the majority of Equestria found the whole accident rather more of an 'unfortunate incident' than catastrophe. Earth ponies accepted the challenge of a more wilder weather, and the pegasi training grounds were absolutely delighted, along with many famous unicorn research groups. Licenta radiation is a long-thought-to-be lethal poison which is necessary for liquidizing the rainbows' colors without mixing them up. It was dangerous and COULD be lethal - leading to spontaneous combustion - if a certain amount was enough dense and compacted. But in the open air, it quickly dispersed, and the only thing it did was spicing up the clouds' behavior.

The only victims of the incident were the two workcolts in the operator room, who escaped with a minor case of poisoning - making their irises and pupils turn rainbow-colored, or "trippy" for a few weeks - and some smaller bruises - protective glass is protective.

The weather, however, DID effected the market, and farmers were given a hard time... As for the Apple family, the most prominent thing was that several parts of the orchard began to randomly produce Zap apples, and at some places, Paz apples, which were basically like Zap apples but in negative colors, and had a certain spice in them.
Twilight and other professionals had already tested them with Gallopper-Muler counters, and they were fine, not a single bit of radiation in them.

But people were still very cautious, and it seemed that they'll, sooner or later, will have to go abroad to sell their apples - albeit the foreign press was probably even more exagerative as the tabloids at home.

So, the orange mare REALLY hoped that at least ONE of the visitors would be at their aid.

Little did she knew, that she was absolutely right!

On her way, she noticed Derpy carrying the Doctor through the air, heading towards some direction. She figured, "if anybody else would know of the visitors' where'bouts, it'll surely be that time-crazed stallion". So she promptly followed them.

Pinkie Pie was literally thrown out of Sugarcube Corner. Standing up from the ground, and undusting herself with a swift shake of her torso, she glanced back in disbelief.

"But WHY can't I heeeeeelp?" she asked, imploringly. Mrs. Cake gave a sigh, as one of the twins peaked out above her head, giggling...

"Now, now, dearie, I'm pretty sure your friends are all there, waiting for you to arrive and greet the visitors!" she replied kindly.

"Yeah, think about it!" the gentle voice of Mr. Cake added from within the building "We'll take care of the cleaning up, and you can go ahead, meet with your friends and the "trespassers", or whatever that kind fellow called them."

Pinkie, having one of her moments in life when she was unsure of what to think, simply replied:

"O-kay?"

...And walked off, still pondering.

By the time she noticed that there was VIRTUALLY no possible way that her landlords/stepparents/friends would KNEW about her supposed role as an Element of Defiance, the door of the candy shop had already shut.

On her way, she noticed Applejack running through town, occasionally looking up, where the pink pony saw her walleyed friend an her - she squeed mischievously here - future coltfriend, perhaps? Known as the Doctor, anyway.

She dashed after them, thinking exactly what her friend did: if there are inter-dimensional trespassers from another world, Doctor Whooves would surely be there...

And with that, she continued skipping merrily towards them.

There are few things that ever actually caught Rainbow Dash's attention - especially when she was asleep. Not that she was completely ignorant, or that she didn't care about others. It's just that, she WAS a TEENY bit insensitive at times, or had been preoccupied, it was different every occasion.

And to her protection, she DID noticed the klutz of a pegasus flying pass her with the brown, spiky-maned earth pony stallion. She did woke up, and followed them, and she DID noticed her friends following them, too... She then remembered what Scootaloo told her before she went to take a nap on the stratus cloud.

"Ah, right, the "trespasser" are arriving." she thought, the sped up, getting closer to ground level.
"Hope there are some slick, cool guys among the visitors. Or at least ONE person who'd be as cool as me... Well, not AS cool, but near it."

Her prayers were answered, thought the "cool guys" were proven to be MUCH more cooler than she would expected. And not in the WAY she expected.

If there was a rumor or gossip going on, the first one to hear it could only been ONE pony in Ponyville: and that was Rarity. The shop was clean, Sweetie Belle was of with the Cutie Mark Crusaders to pep up the clubhouse... Everything was ready... Except for herself, naturally... A last bit of make-up, a nice, rich, but casual dress... Maybe some jewelry? But no! She'll have to be on time, BANG on time!

The last she expected is fate to take her words literally.

She stepped out Carousel Boutique, only to see three of her friends run pass, following a flying object... Which pretty much looked like the good Doctor Whooves and her assistant, Ditzy Doo...

"Right." she uttered, and rushed after the others. She secretly hoped there would be some novelty among them. Not that she minded the simple proles, but she DID longed to see what other worlds' nobility looked like...
Well, she got THAT wish granted, trough she wasn't exactly pleased.

Fluttershy was already there. She went out for a nice morning walk on the far edge of the field of green next to the town, and thus, was the first to witness the disturbance in the air. In a point suspended in mid-air, the view twisted, as if a rock was dropped into still water, messing up the reflection... It was followed by a weird aura that made the warping area turn monochrome with blue, and by weird whooshing sound.

When Alexei, Twilight and Spike arrived, it was as small as a filly. When the Time Lord and Ditzy arrived, it was as big as Princess Celestia. When the rest of her friends arrived, it was bigger than Alexei.

They all stood there, waiting for the trespassers' arrival.

The brown earth pony handed his hoof.

Alexei did the same.

"I'm Alexei."

"Doctor. Just, simply, Doctor."

"Doctor Whooves?"

"Yes."

They shook hands/hoofs.

"Ummm... A little MORE info about our soon-to-be-visitors?"Twilight asked. The figure stared for a moment, then sighed.

"Well, I'm not gonna lie to you..." he muttered "They're right bastards. Honestly. The biggest bunch of gits you would found from here to the the Andromeda Galaxy."

The others just stared at him, now a bit concerned. The Traveler continued:

"It's not like they're evil, but rather - as one of them said - a product of their environment. Their world is much more ruthless and cruel than yours, and MANY people are like them there - or worse. Thus, they've became real jerks, with various unlikable personality features. And really, nice people are so seldom among them--..."

He stopped here, as a silhouette appeared in the portal, slowly emerging, as if coming trough a tunnel.

Their muscles tensed, and their eyes kept focusing on the shape forming out from the illuminating haze.

As it finally did, smiles shrunk, eyes went a bit wide, eyebrows raised, and several blinks were made.

"Oh, super! I've finally made it here!" the newcomer said. The ponies just stared at him...

Something in the back of the Doctor's mind was violently attempting to click, but failed every time. Derpy's walleyed expression changed into a normal, if awestruck gaze. Rarity's smile was turned into a frown, mouth shrunk to it's fifth, and left slightly agape. Pinkie's grin turned upside-down as her eyes squinted slightly on the sight. Rainbow Dash's jaw dropped, as she slowly lowered to the ground, eyes fixated on the being - machine? - in front of them. Twilight's eyes went wide, her pupils slightly shaking, as she tried to put the pieces of information that flowed trough them, as her brain's gears creaked to an abrupt halt.

Applejack... Well, she was trying oh-so-hard to comprehend the sight. But the more she tried, the more scrambled her mind became.

Spike just stared. He had no jokes for this.

Fluttershy's eyes opened a bit wider. She knew it wasn't nice at all to stare, but, the being seemed so... Unique... Yeah, lets say this, unique. But it sure looked, and sounded... Kind?

Alexei sighed... This was a good start.

"Umm... Hello?" the purple unicorn asked.

The visitors eyes darted towards the source of the voice, and his smile grew broad.

"Ah, Twilight Sparkle, is it? I am so very glad to see you!" who-, or WHATever he was, he had a very slight lisp. Twilight took a step back when he called her by her name.

It was a fairly odd thing, to say the least. It had four pair of small, metal wheels, apparently having pieces of metal just existing under them like holograms (well get to that later), two pairs secured onto weird boxes near the two ends, a slightly protruding, cabin-like part in the middle with oddly shaped windows, stuck between two long, smooth edged cuboid parts. He was definitively made of metal, painted Forest Green with the rectangular parts ending in yellow, and with it's protruding midsection having a black roof.

It also had red strips of metal on each end, having a hook of some sort and some rubber pipes on it, and oval-shaped pieces of metal on studs as well. The most notable thing was his face, however. He had a grey face which followed shape of the rectangular part it was on. He had a HUGE nose - it looked like a beach-ball with nostrils -, stretched-triangle-tear-shaped eyebrows, and a jolly smile on his face.

"Uhhh... Hi?" Twilight tried again, desperately trying to get the otherworldly being's sight accepted into her mind...

"And I see that Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, Rarity, Spike, AND the Doctor, aaaand... Ditzy Doo? Is here as well... Oh hello..." he finally noticed Alexei "I haven't seen you before..."

"I get that a lot." the Traveler replied blankly "Anyways, I'm Alexei, Space, Dimension and Timeline Traveler, not to mention the God of Denial."

"Aaah." the being replied, pretending to understand what the stick figure just said "Right. Oh, how rude of me, I haven't even introduced myself. Well then... Good day to you all! I'm--..."

"DEEEREEEEEEEK!!!" an angry voice both finished and interrupted him. More white shadows began to emerge from the portal, the first one being a fairly boxy one, which darkened with every inch it moved towards them, finally appearing as rectangular... Actually, downright BOXY, cuboid like machine-being, with a larger gray face, a short stumpy body, a short, stumpy cabin at the back, six small wheels with stainless steel rims, connected with dirty, silvery rods, and apparently, a short stumpy temper... As it rolled forward, it made an oily growling and clanking noise, quite a loud one, too. On its sides small edges could be found, where various boxes - apparently parts of his body - rattled. He also had the same red metal stripe with the round metal plates, but his were black, and along with the hook, he only had one rubber pipe on his front. His windows were small and squint, and dark from either the interior of his cab or because of the grime - it was hard to tell, as his body was entirely painted in a greasy, dirty black color, slightly brown shaded, thought, and visibly smudged here and there, probably due to shabby paintwork.

His face was different as well: A large, square shaped one, with a near invisible chin - in contrast of the first arrival's -, sinuous eyebrows nearly as thin as a line, now frowned, an ugly, pointy nose, round, slightly bulging, baggy eyes, a mouth area shaded by his small, slightly triangle-shaped cheek-bumps, his mouth was apparently twisted into a snarl, with quite a few wrinkles, which, along with his "look into certain Hell" glare and frowned eyebrows gave him a very angry, and very frightening look.

"Oh, uhhh... H-Hello, Diesel..." Derek uttered, a cracked smile on his face...
The boxy being named Diesel turned his eyes towards the eight ponies and the God, his Face-O'-Fury turning into a moderately ignorant look, eyebrows slightly raised, but still in the same anguine shape, eyes half closed, and mouth shrunk into a small, careless pout.

"Sorry, didn't see ya there..." he spoke with a slight British accent "Anyways, make yourself comfortable, this might take a while..." and with that, he turned his look back to Derek, with only his snarl missing, now replaced with an enhanced pout with lots of wrinkles.

The other one, Derek, looked away, sheepishly and afraid.

His surly companion seemed to be in a mix of disbelief and anger...

"Derek, you... Just... What THE HELL were you THINKING?!" he snapped, after some difficulty.

"Well, I... I wanted to visit Equestria, a-and... Well... I got these neat dimension-jumping devices... I did ordered a lot, because... I hoped someone else might want to come with me, so..."

Diesel interrupted him...

"SOMEONE?! You ordered enough for THE ENTIRE BLOODY RAILWAY! And that even includes EVERY SINGLE PIECE of rolling stock! J-Just what...?! HOW were you even ABLE to pay for all of this?"

A sly smile spread across Derek's face.

"Oh, I think you'll like what you'll hear..." he said, eyes half closing...

"Oh, REALLY?!" Diesel snorted, raising an eyebrow "How's that?"

Derek took a deep breath, as if savoring the moment. Then...

"It's ALL charged on the Thin Git's booze-money account!"

The black machine's expression quickly shifted from irritated to awestruck, then, it slowly creeped into a nefarious, thoroughly DEVIOUS look, his eyebrows lowered slightly, eyes fully opened, mouth turning from a sharp, angry moue into a content, triumphant smile, making his face look less threatening, to say the least, but in the same time, much more shady...

"Weeeeell..." he said in a slick, oily voice, the rumbling and clanking coming from inside of him smoothing into a quiet, low purring noise "What can I say? I would've never, ever expected... You, Derek, of ALL engines, getting our collective revenge on Sir Wyatt Fronts... I'm DREADFULLY grieved..." he made a particularly nasty smirk here "But... I couldn't be prouder... Guess all that banker business DID payed off... Heh... In one way or another..." Diesel finished, chuckling evilly, while Derek smiled once again.

"I'm glad you feel like that!" he replied, happily.

"But still..." his companion added, eyebrows lowering, and mouth showing a half-smile "You SHALL NOT speak of that to ANYONE. Comprende?"

Before Derek could answer, there was a loud, abrupt noise, like an industrial-sized trumped or horn going off, coming out of the portal, which STILL haven't closed up, yet. The next moment, something - someone - else emerged from within, the loud noise going off again, clearly, the new visitor made that sound...

When he finally emerged, Rarity gasped, and nearly fainted. The other ponies recoiled...
The new one was another machine, far more different from the others...

He was recognizably larger, and not to mention longer than the previous two... His cab was mounted into his body in a sort of streamlined way, with three square windows on the front. Speaking of fronts, he also had a protruding one in front of his cab, albeit a short one. It's front (I gotta stop saying that) was painted in a paled out yellow color, on which he had a similarly yellow face, which basically melted into the metal. His eyebrows were similar to Diesel's but they were a bit thicker, and a bit angular, and a bit longer, extending sideways pass his eyes. His eyes, however, seemed almost normal compared to his comrades', but they were blood-shot and baggy. His nose, presumably snub once, was a bit swollen and dented - it was probably broken a few times. Another noticeable thing was his joined stubble - he probably didn't shaved for a long time by then, and the lower part of his face could almost be considered gray. His front was yellow, and the rest of his body was blue - well, as far as the mares could see. The reason why they've taken aback was the machine's state: his side and boogies were covered in scratches, mud, soot, oil, and other muck, his windows were smudgy and spotty, the middle one was cracked, and he had several dents on his body. He also had a red metal plate on front, but of course, that was barely recognizable, as it was also covered in grime. He also had protruding studs with plate-shaped pieces of metal on front, once probably painted black, but now, they were scratched and worn. The plastic pipes he had faded colors and were roughly patched up with petticoat and metal bands, and the hook he had was much more robust, and seemed to be extra secured to that metal plate of his. He had a frown on his face, but it was more of a frown of irritation or tiredness - maybe even his normal expression - than a frown of anger.

With internal, mechanic growling, he stopped on the other side of Derek. Diesel was on his right, while the newcomer was on his left.

"Dere ya are!" he spoke, with a THICK British working class accent "I'v' bee' loo'in' fo' ya trough WO'LD'S an' shi'! We'e 'ave ya been, ya twi's?!" he snapped.

"It's nice to see you too, Spamcan." Derek replied, ever so ignorantly kind.

"Huh... What are YOU doing here?" Diesel asked back crabbily, before raising one eyebrow in suspicion.

"Me? I'm sear'in' fo' you guys!" Spamcan replied "Whe'e ar' we, anyway?"

He looked around.

The scenery was beautiful. A large, green meadow, with a few healthy trees and bushes here and there, the sun shining brightly with only a few puffy clouds on the sky, birds chirping and butterflies flying around, low in the high grass, snow covered mountains in the distance, one sporting a large castle or abbey of some sort, built close to it's peak, and small village in the distance, bustling with life...

Something inside Spamcan growled up, and thick plumes of back, sooty smoke flew up from his top, rising from two points of his roof, as he spoke:

"Not ba'. Bi' too greenie an' poofy fo' my taste, but i's no' 'alf ba'."

Two birds playfully flied trough the smoke, but came out the other side, coughing badly and covered in the greasy smog.

Fluttershy gasped, and quickly flew to them... She took them down to the ground, where she gently cleaned them from the soot, while they kept on coughing the smoke out.

Finally, they were ready to go, and in a tired manner, they flew off.

The yellow pegasus then flew right in front of the large machine, and looked at him with fear and sincerity...

"Please, would stop doing that? It's making the little birds sick, and I have a feeling that's not all the problem your... Smoke... Can cause... So... Can you... Stop it, please?"

Spamcan just stared at her, bewildered. Did that undersized, winged horse just TALKED to him? AND asked nicely, too?
His previous gruff and slightly blunt look returned, as Fluttershy slowly lowered to the ground, not being able to bare the large machine's look. She sat on the ground, then slowly laid down, peeking up at the being which looked down at her with a sedate and mighty look. She squirmed, and tried to look smaller, hiding her eyes under her long mane... Then, she heard the grimy, brusque machine talk, in a deep, croaky, harsh voice, but with no malevolence in it whatsoever.

"Sorry... Force o' habbit... Bu' I can' 'elp th' smoke. I wor' da' way."

She looked up, surprised.

"Huh? Work that way?" she asked.

"I'll say! What sort of ridiculous postcard world IS this?!" an unknown voice suddenly asked. It sounded grumpy, and very, very posh.

"Weeell, yes, it DOES look a bit of a "highland sights" cliché, but on the other hand, it seems very pure and, most importantly, CLEAN. I kind of like it." the other voice was snooty and picky, but sounded much more smooth, and much less posh. It also seemed to be a bit younger, and a LOT more pleased than the first.

Two other machines rolled out of the portal, and stopped next to Diesel. They had the same shape, slightly similar to Spamcan's, but the protruding front bits were longer, and the bodies themselves also seemed longer. One was painted similar to Spamcan: blue body and yellow front and face. But he was much more cleaner, only a bit of dust/soot on the lower part of his sides, close to the wheels, and on the red metal plate on his front. His oval-shaped plate thingies, on the other hand, were sparkling clean, and even trough painted dull gray, they glistened silvery in the sunlight. His windows were intact, and the rubber pipes and hook on his front seemed new. His face, on the other hand, shown of age: he had wrinkles around his baggy, narrowed eyes, and around his haughtily pouting mouth, trough none was a wrinkle of laughter. He had very thick and long eyebrows, but they've seemed to be elegantly combed - and gel covered? His eyes were sizable, proportionally as big as his eyebrows, and VERY deep within them, a light of wisdom could be seen - hardly, as it was clouded up by a look of arrogance. He had a monocle on his left eye, with a thin metal rim, collected to his... Side, by a thick black rope. His nose was bigger, triangle-shaped, and sharp.

The other one was painted like Derek: green body, with only the front being yellow, and with a rectangular, gray face. He seemed to be the only one with normal sized and shaped eyebrows and eyes so far... He had a snub nose, and an impish half-smile on his face, no wrinkles or frown. He was even cleaner than the other one, with his paintwork shining in the sunlight, and a bright red metal plate on his front, and his plate-shaped stud were silver gray, and sparkled in the sunshine. His pipes and hook seemed brand new as well. He looked very spiffy, and very confident... And very smart in a snooty, uppity way.

"Ah, that's ALL we needed!" Diesel groaned upon seeing the new arrivals...

"Who are they?" Twilight asked. Diesel glanced at her, surprised that somebody from THEM asked HIM, then replied, as unenthusiastic as possible:

"Well, I might as well introduce them, as they're too much of a pair of snobby sods to do so. Ahem... Here we have Sir Alaric English Electric, or 40 125. We call 'im Old Stuck-Up. The other one is D261, or Bowler. To cut it short, Stuck-Up's a posh twat, and Bowler is a paranoid, hypochondriac toff. The other one on Derek's far side is D199, but just call him Spamcan. I'm Diesel. Oh, yeah, and this is Derek beside me.

The mares just stared. Weird names, numbers, and unflattering nicknames...

They didn't even noticed when two other machines rumbled out from the portal, soon followed by a third.

They all stopped next to Spamcan.

"And who are they?" Fluttershy asked him.

Spamcan glanced to his side. Next to him parked two other machines, their shape similar to Diesel's but they were painted differently - among other things...

Their wheels seemed to be a bit further from each other than Diesel's wheels, and the strip of metal on their front where they had the plate-shaped metals on studs was painted in a dark, damp brownish-black color, along with the plate-shaped metal parts - but it was more likely that they were THAT dirty. Their faces were a bit narrower, and they had yellow and black wasp stripes around them. Their bodies were dark gray, with a stripe of yellow going along the side, close to their roofs, in the same level as their small, squint windows, with the words "BARROW IRONWORKS" in them in black. Their cabs (and the odd boxes on the small edge on their sides) were yellow as well, but the paint was dusty, had smudged splodges and watermarks on them, their bodies were scratched and covered in dust, soot and ashes, even bearing a few traces of burning... Their wheels and the rods connecting them were black with smirch. They both had stubble, thought one of them had a heavier one, while the other had more narrower eyes - they had dark circles around their eyes, maybe because they didn't slept enough, but who knew. Not that it mattered, anyway, they were still clearly twins... They were both weather-worn, dirty, and looked quite grim, both wearing a mischievous, or more like sinister grin on their faces, eyeing up the scenery, as a now familiar mechanical growling-purring could be heard from within them... Both had depressed, slightly round noses, normal-looking eyebrows, and pronounced chins.

When their looks finally fell on the ponies (and the Traveler), they both opened their eyes wide in surprise, then, the one with the heavier stubble started to smile warmly, while the other one rolled his eyes, looking irritated.

"The' ar' 'Arry an' Ber', th' Iron Twins." Spamcan explained "An' tha' othe' guy is... Ohmygod..." his face went a bit pale, as the third machine, a large, sepia and rust brown colored, tube shaped thing, much like a large worm compared to the others, stopped beside the Iron Twins.

"Greetings, Mr. Spamcan." he spoke in a deep, early Hollywood gangster voice, mixed with a bit of Italian "I'm also very pleased to see you, too."

Instant surprise was the mares' first reaction. Spamcan, who, even thought they had no idea what he was, looked like a total thug, a hard nut who won't take horse apples from anyone, was now cowering (along with the others, pass the Twins), at the sight of a member of their gang who was presumably older than all of them.

While naturally, the ponies didn't know that they were right about every detail in that consideration, still proceeded asking the rudimentary excuse of a polite question...

Well, Rarity did, anyway...

"And who, pray tell, are YOU exactly?" she asked, with both superciliousness and respect in her voice.

The machine looked at her, blankly eyeing her up. His face was the only yellow part on his body, a bright (yet, faded) rectangle on the dull brown body. He had two large windscreens above it, both covered in thick layers of dust, so the only place you can see trough them was the clean path left by the windscreen wipers. The rubber pipes were located on the two sides of his face, and his stud-based plate-shaped metal thingies were also oval and rusty. His face looked like a mixture of Diesel's and Old Stuck-Ups - a sharp, triangle-shaped nose, a bit hawk-like, brush-like, snaky eyebrows, narrow, bagged eyes, heavy wrinkles on the forehead, noticeably many around the mouth, from laughter, as it seemed, and a small, almost unnoticeable diagonal cut across the face, including his left eye (intact), his nose, and his mouth. He also had noticeably acute chin.

After an uncomfortably long stare, the internal rumbling coming from him stopped with a nasty, short uproar, two small plumes of pellucid grey smoke left from his top (Fluttershy winced here), and turned his gaze towards the other machines.

"Buffer me, who are these nags?" he asked the Twins.

"NAGS?!" the ponies hollered in anger.

"...Ponies. Excuse me. Who are these... Ponies?" the brown machine repeated after a short cough.

"More importantly, what's "buffer"?" Pinkie Pie suddenly asked.

And I really thank her for that, 'cause writing down "plate-shaped metal thingies on studs" was SERIOUSLY getting on my nerves!

"Wha'? Buf'e's?" 'Arry (the one with the narrower eyes) asked, speaking in a hoarse, deep Glaswegian accent.

"Ya don' 'no' wha' buffe's ar'?" Bert (the one with the heavier stubble) added, his voice similar, but even deeper and a bit monotonous, hinted with a south-londonian accent aside the Glaswegian.

"Buffers are these round or oval things we have on our fronts." Derek explained patiently, looking down at his buffers "They're there for safety when shunting or pulling trains..."

"Wait, did you said, "trains"?" Rainbow cut him off, surprised.

"Yes, trains..." Derek replied simply "Why?"

The ponies stared at each other.

The machines blinked, and also exchanged glances...

"Oh dearie me..." Derek exclaimed "I forgot! They've never seen a diesel engine before! Or an European one, for that matter! They probably have no idea what we are!"

"Well, we could hav' guessed." Applejack replied dryly "Th' wheels kinda give it away, y'know."

"Oh, alright..." Derek replied sheepishly.

"So, let me get this straight..." Twilight spoke up sternly, trying to wake from her newfound disorientation "You guys are from another dimension, or timeline, or world, whatever, and you are living locomotives, am I correct?"

"Basically, yes." Bowler replied "We're diesels."

"But I thought HE was called "Diesel"." Fluttershy replied, pointing a hoof at the black box on wheels.

"I am." Diesel answered morosely "Creative name, isn't it?"

After noticing the confused stare, he cleared his throat, and explained:

"You see, we are indeed locomotives, or engines, as in 'the ENGINE-powered unit of the train'. But unlike the STEAM engines you probably have, which run on coal and water - if they don't run on magic AS WELL -, we have internal combustion engines, or motors, which use a liquid fuel refined from crude mineral oil, called diesel oil, after it's discoverer, Rudolph Diesel. We all run on this same fuel, and thus, we are called "diesels". But my builders were SOOO creative, they gave me this hilariously convenient name." he finished, ever so unenthusiastic.

The Mane Six looked even more bewildered now, except for Twilight and Spike, who were most amazed.

"Internal combustion engines?" she asked, excitedly.

"Yes." the diesels replied in unison.

"But... That's... Just... BRILLIANT! "she cheered.

The engines were dumbfounded.

"It is?" the Twins asked, again, in unison.

"Yes!" Spike added "I've looked into this. You know, a few decades before, a famous chemist stallion called Rudolf Dazzler invented a new type of piston engine that run on oil made out of herbs. Sadly, it was proven to be uneconomical at the time, given that coal was much easier to mine."

While both the diesels, the mares, AND Alexei stared at Spike in utter surprise, the purple unicorn continued.

"Nowadays, easy-to-reach coal is scarce, or located in dangerous regions, like the Dragon Dominion. Rail transportation is a great mess, and it's slowly dying." she finished, a bit sad.

Stuck-Up snorted, and chuckled a bit.

"Then it sure is in better conditions than the Hellhole we slack off all day." he snickered, before breaking down into a hearty guffaw, gloat-filled and rude, and soon to be followed by his "colleagues", apparently.

The ponies just stared, unsure of what to think. They didn't even noticed as two sleek and slim, streamlined bodies slipped out from the portal, stopping beside the brown engine.

"So, who are you, anyway?" Rainbow Dash asked the old engine.

"I go by many names." he replied darkly "But, to NOT to get you into any... Sticklers, refer to me as... The Brakefather.

After a bit of awed silence, the yellow pegasus spoke up.

"Excuse me, Mr. Brakefather, sir, but that's a rather silly name, if you don't mind me saying... Sorry..." she muttered, looking away.

The engines suddenly stopped laughing, and stared at her with a mix of horror and pity.

But the Brakefather just smiled broadly.

"It's alright, my dear, um... Mare. I think so as well. But I keep it so as to avoid any... Inkling, that may be implied about me." he said mysteriously, then added, with a lighter tone "And to remind me of my days in retirement..."

"Retirement?" Fluttershy asked back.

"Indeed. You see, do to an unfortunate... Incident, due to the incompetence of my, ugh... DRIVER, I had suffered not only an explosion, but a rather hasty and, dare I say, thoroughly botched up rebuilt, ending up as a brakevan for a period of time, but, thanks to that, I survived the extinction of my class."

"What's a "brakevan"?" Pinkie asked.

"Why, Ah'm surprised ya don' know that, sugah." Applejack replied, rhetorically "A brakevan or caboose is a wagon at the end of a train which helps it to slow down, hence it's name."

"Ooooh..." the pink earth pony replied, apparently satisfied with the answer. Then...

"Hey, who are those?" she asked, pointing at the two newcomers. They were twins as well, and noticeably female. They were streamlined, had one large windscreen at the front, and where painted yellow with a familiar blue stripe at their middle. Their entire cab was painted yellow, with in-built pair of lamps edging their faces, which basically marked where it ended, as it was built well into their bodies, which were blue. They didn't have buffers.

"Ah, there you are, girls! We've been wondering what took you so long!" Bowler smirked...

"THERE you are, Derek!" one of them spoke up. She had blue eye shadows, and talked in an equally mixed welsh/londonian accent "We've been looking trough WORLDS to find you! Don't you DARE run away like that!"

"Yeah!" the other joined in. She wore a very humble red lipstick, and spoke in the same accent, trough her voice seemed a bit lighter "We know the world may seem to be a dark and cruel world at times - oh, hello, guys! -, but there's no need to run away like that." she then looked around, along with her twin. Their faces were noticeably feminine, located on the very front, on the edge of the streamline, with thin, curving eyebrows, naturally pronounced eyelashes, cute, snub noses and pouty, full lips. Their paintjob expressed speed and officially, and was just a bit sooty, especially on the roofs.

"Allow me to introduce them." Old Stuck-up offered, then cleared his throat "Ladies... Mares, and gentlemen... Gentlengines, allow me to introduce you to the finest assets of the Other Railway: Philippa and Emma, the High-Speed Trains. Together, and with their coaches, which are not present, they make up an InterCity 125 set. Highly recommended for commuters and shorter express runs." and with that, Stuck-up stopped, groaning and muttering under his breath about class, engines and bleeding hearts...

"So... Who's Philippa and who's Emma?" Applejack asked, after a bit of silence.

"I'm Philippa. But just call me Pip." the eye-shadowed one answered.

"I'm Emma! Hello there!" the one with the lipstick replied, cheerily.

"It's easy to tell them apart." Diesel sneered quietly "Pip, usually leading the train, is the more serious and sensible one, while Emma, careering at the back in most cases, is the more cutesy-poo, ditzy one. They're our token girls and our ONLY hope to avoid a financial crunch. Given that if they wouldn't be here, our PATHETIC excuse of a railway would've shut down due to "sexism in workplace". I think in your case it is needless to say, don't judge them by their gender. They can easily put up a banter with the rest of us and prevail - even though that's quite bloody annoying when it happens MOST of the time."

Exchanging perplexed looks over this curious comment, the ponies finally looked at Alexei, who just shrugged his shoulders.

What made them turn their attention back to the visitors was a rather loud and impolite sound.

"BUUUUAAAARRRP!"

Rolling out from the portal was... Yet another engine?

It was hard to tell...

He was long and rectangular, although his top appeared to be vaulted. His wheels were strangely set: four pair of big ones connected via similar rods Diesel, 'Arry and Bert had, one middle-sized pair at the back, and a four small wheels at the front. His body was like a large box, with a few, tiny windows and two longs-stretching strip set of vertical railings on the sides. His front had a door on it, framed snugly in a thin, articulated piece of plastic that surrounded it, with two tall, narrow windows on each side. Maybe because of this, his face was located at a very low level - just above his brick-shaped buffers. His eyes were far from each other, located ALMOST above the buffers, but still, a bit tighter. They were round, and he wore a WIDE set of glasses, with lenses JUST big enough to cover his eyes. His eyebrows were white, and they looked like they've been drawn on his front with chalk - when they were ACTUALLY real ones, bending down on the outer edges. He seemed to have no nose, and his mouth was just above the metal plate - let's call it on it's name, buffer plate - practically making it his "chin". He apparently had a second, smaller section with six small wheels, which he towed along.

He rolled forward with an airy whirring, and stopped with a gently whoosh of his air brakes, right beside Bowler.

"Sorry I'm late guys. Took me time, you see..." he had the accent of an uppity, sappy business-Briton "But, on the other hand, I did organized what you asked for, Spamcan!"

Now THIS sentence caught EVERYONE'S suspicion. They all looked at the grimy engine with an earnest, stern stare. Spamcan reversed a bit, then decided to spill the beans...

"Ya see..." he began "Whe' Dere' left, le'vin' a sap'y not' be'in', we all decide'... Well, Pip an' Emma decided, ou' o' worry, and Diesel, ou' o' rage, tha' we'll go afta' Dere', an' save hi' arse, le'vin' all wor' be'ind. Bu' den, I cam' up wi'h an' idea: le's make EVER'ONE leave th' railwa' be'in', alon' wi'h all th' co'ches an' truc's an' wha'not, le'vin' th' Thin Git in a bi' pile of SHETH fo' makin' US do th' clean-u' afta' th' mel'down a' th' nuclea' plant! An' THA"S we'e I as'ed Cromwell to 'elp."

"Indeed, it was a brilliant idea. I was SICK an' TIRED of pulling those fallout trains, trough the unusually strong propulsion from Mr. Bottomsly did help... When I was PUSHING a train..."

"BLAAAAAAAARP!" a noise "said" from behind.

"Oh I kno' it wasn't INTENTIONAL, but still!" Cromwell sniffed,

"Who's Mr. Bottomsly?" Rarity asked.

"Oh. He's my tender!" the aloof engine replied, rolling forward, revealing the boxy thing behind his body to be joined with him via some unrecognizable metal parts at the bottom, and the same articulated black door-frame plastic between them. The tender itself looked like an auxiliary one, used for trains where they couldn't stop to take on water for long distances - only this was fairly crude in design - in fact, it looked like a large, block-shaped water tank with curving edges and thick pieces of riveted metal welded/screwed to it's sides and galvanized iron sheets on it's top, except for a spot where two large valves - one red and the other brass. On it's far end, a chromed top hat could be seen, apparently welded to the tanker's top.

"Sooo... You're a steam engine?" Spike asked.

Crowell stared at him in shock for a moment, then chuckled...

"Oh, HEAVENS, no! I am nothing more than an experimental gas-turbine express locomotive. The reason I look like this is, well, because... I was built on a drunken whim, and was made out of tinkered parts, a burned out first-class coach, and a stolen gas turbine originally intended for an alternative power plant in Denmark. And Mr. Bottomsly, I believe, is made out of a septic waste container, which was due to be displaced from the local chemical refinery. Nevertheless, I still work fine, apart from Mr. Bottomsly's vulgar outbursts - but it's not his fault, poor chap..."

This left our future heroines and heroes in perplexity. While Cromwell's unusual elegant manners and smoothness did calmed them down a bit, things still looked uncertain.

"So, let me get this straight..." Twilight began, talking slowly and loudly to catch everyone's attention. She turned to the engines.

"You guys are all here because you followed HIM." she pointed a hoof at Derek "...Who came here to visit us..." she pointed at herself and her friends "...And everyone came along, 'cause YOU and YOU TWO..." she pointed at Diesel and the High-Speed Twins "...Decided and said so. Then HE..." she continued, pointing at Spamcan "...Thought it'll be a good idea to tell EVERYONE to move OVER HERE, to Equestria..." she pointed at the ground "...So that you guys would get your... Boss? In trouble..." she finished.

The diesels exchanged looks...

"Yeah." the Iron Twins replied.

"...Sort of..." Derek added.

"Exactly!" Stuck-Up declared.

"Certainly!" Bowler agreed.

"Indeed." Cromwell backed it up.

"You could say that..." Pip and Emma answered with a slight delay.

"That just about covers it." the Brakefather muttered.

"Yesh." Spamcan answered.

"OK, enough with the agreeing, we all wanted to come here for VARIOUS reasons, and now, literally the ENTIRE railway is on our neck!" Diesel snapped

"Natura--..." Derek was cut off.

"OH SHUT IT! Who's leading the bunch, anyway?" the black engine growled.

"I've left BoZo in charge." Cromwell answered "He has a great sense of direction."

"Yeah, I suppose that's true..." Diesel muttered "Still, it'll take time..."

"About I week, I believe..." Cromwell answered "'Till everyone's here. Literally. EVERYONE."

The engines just groaned.

Diesel suddenly looked up, and an expression of deep suspicion creeped onto his face, as he took a slow, deep glance at the Brakefather.

"But tell me..." he spoke slowly, his irritated voice going smooth and acute "HOW did you ended up back in service, Don?"
The brown engine shot a disparaging glare at Diesel.

"Well, unlike you, you sorry excuse of a shunter, these fine, stud lads were altruistic and noble enough to grant me my only wish: a new motor! They've got it from a Russian heavy-weight freight engine who had somehow ended up here, and who was doughty enough to offer ONE of his eighteen cylinder engines for me... Well, after a bit of... "Fillip"..." he smirked darkly, before breaking down into an evil chortle...

All engines shuddered at that last comment, Apart from the Iron Twins, who grinned viciously.

Even the mares and the god took an uneasy step back...

Suddenly, Cromwell seemed to remember something... Something... Unsettling...

"Cue on that..." he spoke hastily "I think I should of mentioned it before... One UNWANTED person have joined us as well..."

"Who?" Diesel asked, before they all went a bit pale "Oh, God save us..."

"I'm right here, you know!" Alexei grumbled.

"Oh... Right... Didn't see you there..." Diesel replied, SLIGHTLY surprised. He then looked towards the gas-turbine engine again, wide-eyed.

"Cromwell... Please, tell me, it ISN'T... HER..." he shuddered...

"Oh, no-no-no-NOOO!" Cromwell exclaimed, before shuddering delicately "I wasn't talking about Mrs. Cruelly..."
All the engines, AND Alexei, let out a relieved sigh...

"But HE is, in fact..." he was cut off, when they heard an all-too-familiar whistle and loud chuffing approaching them.

"Wha-Who-Why-WHAT? WHATISTHAT?!" Bowler panicked, hyperventilating (literally, as his radiator's rotor buzzed up loudly).

"What the...?" the Iron Twins mumbled.

"Wow... Is... Is that really...?" Derek asked in surprise.

"It is..." the HSP Twins winced.

"Bloody 'ell!" Spamcan swore, frustrated.

"I'll say...!" Stuck-Up blurted out.

"Aiaiaiii..." the Brakefather groaned...

"Oh dear..." Cromwell moaned...

"Oh no... Oh no! It can't be... It... CAN'T... Possibly beeee...!" Diesel whimpered, as the latest visitor arrived, stopping beside Cromwell, wheesing out steam...

"STEAMIE?!"

Yup, it was Steamie. A fluorescent green saddle-tank steam engine, with six small wheels, connected via traction rod, a small, stubby black funnel, a stout dome, a small cab with an arched roof, a small bunker, filled with plastic-looking coal, round, white buffers on sparkling red buffer plates, his young, juvenile face bearing the most biggest, SICKENINGLY cheerful smile that Equestria had probably ever seen... His face had a small, snub, round nose, big Bambi-eyes, small, delicate eyebrows in contrast of the monsters and colossi the diesels had, and a wrinkle-less face, which still looked like it never even heard of Botox. On the other hand, his smile gave people the feeling his firebox was stuffed to the brim with Prozac.

"Ah, THEEEREEE you are, fellas!" he spoke in an unreal, squeaky voice, with a BIT of londonian in it "I've been looking over WORLDS for you, only to find out you've came... Here..." his voice drowned away, as he looked around, mouth shrunk down into a small, awed gape, as he stared around with dangerously wide eyes... First slowly scanning, his pupils then began to dart around wildly, until he squeezed them shut, as his mouth turned into a wide, shut-mouth Spongebob grin.

He shot a knowing/smug/trolling glance at the diesels.

"Why, guys..." he spoke, his face returning into an ALMOST normal, self-righteous expression "I would of NEVER thought... You lot, out of all the baddies and anti-heroes... Coming too..." he took an impossibly small inhale, then, after an effect pause:

"EQUESTRIAAAAA!!!!!"

While the engines and the mares recovered from a 200 decibel, shrill holler, Alexei tried to clean out his nonexistent ears out with his finger...

"Well, this is off to a ruddy marvelous start..." he uttered to himself.

Prologue - Part 4

"Well... This is rather interesting..."
"You're putting it lightly..."

That was the first conversation between the Doctor and the Brakefather.

All of them, ponies, engines, and the godly entity were resting a bit further from the portal, the engines parked under a grove of beeches. More of the other worlds machines were coming out from the portal, steadily, some pulling or pushing out trains (with a few unfortunate middle engines). Beside the first arrivals: Derek, Diesel, Spamcan, Old Stuck-up, Bowler, 'Arry & Bert, the Brakefather, Pip & Emma, Cromwell (& Mr. Bottomsly), and, of course, Steamie - so, beside the usual scum, a LOT more were coming, continuously, and without any sign of stopping.

More engines parked beside them. Most of them were diesels, but there were also quite a few steam engines, and few other, diesel-like engines, but they made a low droning sound with a repetitive, obtuse clanking noise. Some of them had weird, fragile-looking metal structures on their roofs, usually in pairs, while others had protruding metal parts on their boogies.

"What sort of engines are those?" Derpy asked. Thankfully, both her eyes were aimed at the general direction of the odd machines.

"Those are 'electric' engines." Bowler explained "They're the third big branch of enginekind. You see, instead of running on diesel fuel like us, or... Uuugh... Running on coal and water like steam engines, they collect electricity from an overhead wire system above the rails, with those furling apparatuses on their tops, called "pantographs"..."

"Or..." Derek added "They collect the electricity from a so-called "third rail", which is located next to the real rails they roll on, usually higher than ground level." he began to smirk "Heh, I'm not sure WHERE they are getting the power right now, since there isn't any strip of wire or third rail in sight, but hey, we've just rolled here without using rails."

This was partly true.

The dimension-hopping device Derek had brought an arseload of (on the Thin Git's beer money, if you recall the last part) was specially customized for locomotives, allowing them to easily roll on any surface, as the machine generated a perfectly fitting stripe of rail just underneath their wheels.

"Bloody brilliant. these rail generators, aren't they?" said a cheery voice. It belonged to one of the newcomers, a Rail Blue colored Class 47 'Brush type' diesel, with a yellow cab. It's fair to say, that he showed the truly vast imagination of his creators, as his name was simply 'Brush'. An interesting feature of this particular engine was his mustache - he had one, trough not out of facial hair.

In the middle of his face (located lower than what was the design's standard) was a large, empty, rectangle-shaped black spot, with two lamps on it's sides. It was presumably made so that his headcode could be literally highlighted, but no-one has ever seen him with one.

Brush was a cheerful, curious fellow, yet, as many of the senior members of the Mainland Railway system, or Barrow Regional Transit (or, the Other Railway), he was similarly "mature" as his peers. Yet, he was one of the few engines who still had (retained) his optimism, and, most importantly - still did work, full heartedly, and on time, which was completely unlike any diesel, moreover, unlike any type of railway vehicle if it's the bloody OTHER Railway we're talking about!

"I have to agree with you, Brush, old chap!" Stuck-up smirked "They are most comfortable, and provide a certain freedom that COMMON rails never did!" he continued, daydreaming.

Noticing the dreamy look in the express engine's eyes, Diesel snickered.

"Thank Goodness we've NEVER worn clothes, otherwise, well, I don't know what SORT of display you would of did in front of us..."

As the others laughed, Stuck-up snorted angrily.

"Don't be obscene, Diesel! Besides, GOD knows what YOU'VE been up to in the back of the shed with those SMUTTY magazines you have stockpiled there!"

An even stronger cackle burst out from the engines, as Diesel reversed a bit, looking very embarrassed, eyes darting around angrily and suspiciously, on his colleagues. This, however, caught Rainbow Dash's attention.

"Really? What SORT of magazines you have there, Diesel?" she asked with a smug look on her face...

"Well, THAT'S a good question! So, out with it, Diesel!" Cromwell smirked "WHAT sort of magazines you fancy in particular?"

The jet black shunter's eyes darted around, looking from face to face, meeting his colleagues' suspicious and malicious expressions. Feeling like a cornered dog (which he was), he finally blurted out:

"P-PlayTrain..."

BUT, just as his associates were gathering their breaths for another uproar of guwaffs, his devious, triumphant look returned.

"But you should ALL know that well by now, considering MOST of you had already asked for me to lend some in the past, and usually returned it with grease spots on them." he grinned, then added with a cheap Aussie accent "NOW who's th' wanka'?"

The other engines reversed, looking more than a bit ashamed. Even the mares felt a blush coming to their faces after such revelation. Fluttershy, however, seemed oblivious to the obvious, matter-of-factually innuendo.

"PlayTrain?" she repeated "That's an odd name for a magazine..." she pondered "I mean, I heard of other magazines with similar names, but whether they were... Smutty, or... Oh." she realize, and gasped, blushing in a deep shade of red "OH MY!"

She passed a disbelieving look at the engines, all of who looked away in brisket - something which they haven't felt for years, given the life they were living - and naturally, some felt that this was an offence.

"WHA'? Eve' us ENG'NES 'ave needs!" Spamcan retorted.

"We undahstand, bu' that raises a question..." Applejack replied, her blush turning as red as an apple "Do engines...? ...Can engines...?"

The engines looked back it her, now perplexed, prominent eyebrows rising everywhere.

"What she means is... You know..." Rainbow Dash tried, flushing madly as well "Do you guys...?"

"Do what?" the Doctor asked, oblivious. Derpy, who was watching the awkward situation with a soft blush and a wry smile, now facehoofed, and whispered into the Doctor's ear. In a matter of second, the Doctor was blushing like crazy as well.

Even Alexei was slightly red in the face, pulling on the neck of his coat and coughing.

"Do you... Oh, how to put it...?!" Twilight was redder than anyone else, and her mind was once again scrambled, as she searched for a way to ask the uncomfortable, yet inevitable question in a light way... A correct way.

"Do wha'?" Bert asked, now curious.

"Errrr... Oh, you know..." Rarity muttered, turning her head a bit, sheepishly, fidgeting with her hair "Do... Stuff..."

"Oh, we do LOTSA' stuff!" 'Arry replied, unamused.

"Indeed?" the white mare asked back, her blush turning deeper.

"Yea', we shun', we pull trains, d'liveries, ya 'no', th' usuall stuff..."

The Traveler was getting tired of beating around the bush.

"No!" she snapped "What they meant is, DO. YOU. GUYS. Couple?!"

That seem to have gotten trough, as the engines' eyes went wide, apart from Bert, who still looked bemused.

"Uh, yeah, we do c'ple to tru'ks an' coaches, wha's wi' tha'?"

"Idiot!" 'Arry growled at him "They meant "COUPLIN'"!"

"Oh!" Bert muttered "Tha' figures..."

"Weeeell... Uuuum..." Diesel uttered, searching for words...

"Errr... You see..." Derek began, but went no further than that...

Another diesel, a Class 33 in an old RailFreight livery, plucked up courage:

"We... Do..." he began "But... It's... You know... It's complicated... We'd rather not tell you... It would mess up your mind.

"Ah, THANK YOU, Burbock!" Derek sighed, visibly relieved - That was very clever.

"No prob." the grey diesel replied.

With THAT awkward question out of the way, the mares and the machines continued their discussion.

"So, in short, what is your world like?" Twilight asked.

"In short?" another diesel, a green and cream colored one with a warning panel yellow face, asked after an angry snort from it's squashed, triangle-shaped nose, his nostrils flaring out a bit as he did.

"In short?" he repeated, with the same false, sonorous voice "Bloody crummy, poorly maintained, cheap as flippin' 'ell, and as enjoyable to live an work on as a leprosy crematorium, to say the least."

"It is the exact opposite of this beautiful, thought, slightly unrealistic land." another diesel, a maroon colored Class 52 with cream windscreen and window frames took the floor, speaking in an lordly, yet, petty bourgeois-esque voice, thought not unkind. He glanced at the mares with a tired and sad, but also calm and gentle look, his Grecian nose raising slightly as he grimaced a bit.

"Imagine a concrete jungle." he spoke softly, his graying, wavy eyebrows rising up a bit "Tall buildings and asphalt covered roads, making the ground look like it's made of stone, weed growing out of the cracks of the pavement, and where the ground is clearly shown it is nothing more than filthy mud or dirty ballast, infertile and uneven. The air is thick with exhaust fumes, cigarette and chimney smoke, the sky is always cloudy, the weather intolerably cold and moist, and everybody is either irritated or miserable."

"AND, they're not even trying to help it!" a raspy voice added, as it's owner, a Class 40 in an ugly dark olive color rolled forward. Excluding his roof, buffer plates and boogies, his body was in this same color, including his face. His hawk nose jerked upwards slightly, as he also grimaced, is if he had an itchy face. His thin, shortly cut eyebrows frowned in an indignant scowl, he continued in his raspy cockney accent.

"Our so-called creators and masters are the most horrid bunch of scumbags that you'll EVER come 'cross - and God have mercy on you if you do! They're greedy, smelly, hateful, megalomaniac, bipolar, nihilistic egoists as cruel as a pandemic. They're also quite feeble and pathetic on their own, but once they got their machines and buildings in front of them - like us, for example -, they become the unstoppable annihilators that is worth destroying for them."

And with that, the three diesels finished, they lined up beside each other, as living displays of spitefulness, fatigue and scurrility.

"Well... Thanks... For the info..." the purple unicorn replied, after a long pause "...And you are?"

"Rhodders." thus the yellow faced.

"Matthias." thus the maroon one.

"Brock." thus the snot green.

"And I'm Vac! - another, rattlebrained voice added.

The next minute, a with a deep and loud whizzing and rumbling cacophony, yet another diesel, a Rail Blue Class 50 (strongly resembling a Class 31) rolled towards them, stopping beside the three with an ear-splitting grating noise, his engine backfiring before it turned off. It was a wee engine, to be frank. His cabs were completely yellow, his window frames black, his roof light gray, ending in a boxy shape above each cab, with two great big lamps facing forewards on each sides. His face expressed naive, gleefully unaware cheerfulness, with a broad, yet, soft smile, a sharp and long nose, and two big eyes, one lazy, but the other having a clear, great pupil which shined with expertise.

"Excuse me? Did you said your name was... "Wack"?" Rarity asked, bemused.

The other three diesels gave a tired sight.

"No..." Rhodders muttered in a tired manner "Actually, he's called 'Hoover', after the noise his air filters used to make, but we all call him 'Vac', as in, 'Vacuum cleaner', because it sounds so much like... "Wack"..."

"An' he's a wackey one, Ah presume." Applejack added, eyeing up the infantile-looking engine "Ah have th' feelin' he an' Ditzy will be good friends..."

"Well, not as "Wackee" as Steamie..." Brush replied, shuddering slightly "Anyways, where's that little lunatic right now?"

"He's hangin' ou' wi'h 'at pin' co'on can'y statue o' a pony!" Bert answered, before quietly muttering "Luc'y BASTARD..."

Steamie was near the portal, greeting every engine, rolling stock or nicked, self-aware equipment (that including the rolling cranes from the Ironworks' and the Docks' yards) that came trough. introducing the ever-so-bewildered machines to a wide-eyed Pinkie Pie who stared at them innocently and with deep, sincere curiosity - not eyeing them up mockingly like most people did. It was a very, very, very, VERY weird, yet somewhat, somehow, in some distant way, comforting greeting for them.

"Hellooo, Rats! Nice to see ya! Welcome to Equestria!" the green tank engine chuffed, as a puzzled Two-tone BR Green Class 25 with full yellow ends passed by.

"Rats? That's an odd name." the pink earth pony pondered aloud.

"Back in the days, his class was said to be seen everywhere around the country, so the people said they were "as common as rats"."

Pinkie frowned.

"But then... Calling him "Rats" isn't exactly nice..." she muttered "It's actually quite mean..."

"That's what I thought as well..." Steamie replied "But he said he didn't mind, and everybody else called him like that, so I don't think it's a problem."

It actually was.

Rats hated to be called like that, but nobody bothered to take consideration about his feelings, and they were just plain lazy to call him by his number, even though it was PAINTED on him, with bold, white digits. In the end, he grew tired of correcting the others, so, and because he didn't found any other name that he liked, he went with this name.

Nobody cared.

Nobody cares.

Nobody will.

Rats could live with that.

He even began to hear a certain familiarity, a certain affection, something he could almost take, or half-mistake for friendship, in the voices saying his name.

So, Rats didn't mind.

His roof was gray, anyway.

Back in the bosket:

"So, what's up with Steamey, anyway?" Applejack asked, her head cocked to the side in wonder.

"Yeah, I mean, he's more random and, uh... "Jolly" than Pinkie Pie! I didn't even though that's possible!" Rainbow Dash added, sounding much bothered.

"Umm... I've also noticed that Steamy... Seems to be a bit, ummmm... Off the ground, if you don't mind me saying so..." Fluttershy joined in, quietly.

The engines slowly glanced at Diesel, who took a long, exasperated sigh, then, after groumbling something that was incomprehensible, but didn't exactly sounded polite, he explained:

"First of all, there's a backstory, ahem! In our world, all steam traction, so, steam boats, steam-powered pumps and other machinery, that including steam locomotives, is near completely gone. Time has passed, and newer, more efficient and economical technologies had blossomed out and advanced, pass the power of steam. So, steam machines were mass scrapped, which, in the case of rails, means they were either replaced by road vehicles or airplanes, or by diesel and electric traction - diesels and electric engines, respectively. But, as steam power gained many, many fans over the decades - heck, it may even be over a century - SOME engine works still produce the long fallen kinds, mostly for museums and heritage railways. Now, the world's, unarguably, most biggest ACTUALLY regularly servicing heritage railways is located at our own railway's back door."

Diesel's face turned glum

"Unfortunately for them, but mostly for us Other engines, a peculiar, horrific disease, bringing delirium and dementia, had spread all over the island, bringing down both people and engines, effectively making it, what we call, a "saccharine purgatory". Now, for some odd and funny - and by funny, I mean HORRIBLE - reasons, the local workshops in our regions produce engines that were LITERALLY made for a railway in such mental state. But, after reports of accidents caused by infantile engines on that accursed railway, said workshops offered us a deal: they cover the quite common "financial irregularities" of our abhorred railway, and we, in return, train the chavvy, cheery and downright PSYCHOTIC noobs they send us."

The jet black Class 08 groaned. The other engines' face was blank, clearly, their thoughts were in a completely different place right now. The mares, the baby dragon, and the inter-dimensional God, on the other hand, listened with interest.
After a long pause, Diesel continued.

"Steamie was the first temp, and I was chosen - forced - to be his mentor. Now, it's best I not lie to you..." Diesel began, before grumbling to himself "...As I don't wanna end up raped, sent to the bloody Moon or turned into a questionable pastry..." and then pondered moderately aloud "...Although, a black streak would be an advancement for rainbows..."

"What?" Twilight asked in behalf of all of them, as they all, quite clearly, heard what the coarse engine muttered.

"Never mind." he said quickly, before continuing "So, I won't lie to you: I'm a right bastard, and a complete slacker when it comes to work, and the LAST thing I wanted to do is to spend my time with a cherpy, novice drip that has to know just EVERYTHING. So, I decided to cut my work short, and tricked him to embarrass himself, like a certain painer ta--... ENGINE did it with me, YEARS ago..."

"I know you're out there, Montague..." he thought for himself "...And I still remember... So, just you wait... I'll find ya one day... And revenge will be sweeeeeet.... So sweeeeeet...."

"Um... Diesel?" Derek asked, slightly worried by the grimdark and malevolent look on his colleague's face, which was slowly accompanied by a creepy, EVIL smile which, again, slowly, turned to a haunting grin...

"Huh, wha'?" he blurted out, blinking and looking around. His associates and hosts looked at him in a mixture of worry and fear.

And somehow...

It didn't felt good.

Well, it did felt bloody great, actually, having them cower with him in sight...

But this time...

It just didn't felt... Right...

And that scared him...

He never cared about what was right or wrong - mind though, that he had standards!

He only did work, and ONLY that work, if there was something in return.

But at that moment, he felt, with his (jet black, flat, sharp-edged metal) heart, that he was doing (it) wrong.

"So... What happened with Steamie?" Rarity asked.

The shunter sighed.

"The trick was simple. I told him to pull a line of trucks, as his first lesson of shunting. Now, what you should know about trucks, or freight cars, is that they're horrid, troublesome, they hate us, they're favoritists and nepotists, and they, under NO CIRCUMSTANCES, can be trusted. Also, they're quite old, most of their kinds are no longer produced, due to safety regulations - no wonder we have arseloads of 'em! The line of trucks in question were the oldest and 'horriblest', and had not been moved for a long time... In fact, they were so old, and so horrible, they've probably NEVER been moved AT ALL! The Thin Git even had them registered as a historical landmark! Everything to bring more gullible tourists, you know... Long story short, he tried to pull them, and when he couldn't, he tried singing to them..."

The engine made a pained grimace, as the agony of the memory sunk in...

"...And what that... That... THING produced trough it's smoke box door crack was... Truly... No, I just CAN'T tell you..." he shuddered "Let's just say, I REALLY don't envy those trucks... Especially since they SMASHED themselves into bits, just to avoid hearing another note from him... Anyways, afterwards, he asked me, "why didn't I told him that he shouldn't even have touched them?". Hmph. "

He paused for a moment.

"I gave him my "big speech of the deepest truth":"

"Because you needed a taste of reality, my complete opposite of 'friend'. You steam engines are ALL the same, especially these days! You're all in your delightful little bubble, as if the world is nothing but sunshine and lollipops and toy shops - it's SICKENING. You wanted teaching, and I thought you the only thing you'll ever need to know: Life's a BITCH, and then, you're scrap! The Real World is tough, dirty, and horribly unfair, and that's on a GOOD DAY! The ONLY way to survive is to be an even BIGGER bastard than everyone else! THAT'S why I did this to you, Steamie! To save you from yourself!

...Well, that, and that I enjoy watching other people suffer! Goodbye!"

Little to minus approval met this recite.

Twilight's face showed a mixture of disdain and disgust.

Applejack looked like she was getting ready to buck something with all her might - with said something being a certain someone's ugly face.

Rainbow Dash had her "NOT. Cool." face on, only amped up with 80%.

Fluttershy seemed to be on the verge of a "Stare"-spree.

Rarity, usually calm and collected, seemed to be struggling not to yell - or roar, more like.

Pinkie Pie, who came back a few minutes ago, and was listening, now looked at the engine is if he had broken a Pinkie Promise - on a regular basis, 24/7, around the year, every year since the creation of the universe so far.

Spike, usually sardonic, now looked more sullen than all the engines put together - and that's saying something, considering only the Thin Git was capable of that so far.

As for Alexei, well...

He shook his head, with disapproving expression, before uttering:

"Typical Diesel. Hates hope, joy, and steamies."

Even his colleagues were shooting looks of disapproval, usually shock or irritation, but some - Pip & Emma in particular - gave him an unearthly cold glare.

He first blankly looked around, then, his poker face broke with an angry frown.

"Now don't you DARE...! Don't you bloody DARE look at me like THAT!" he spat "YOU'VE been mentoring the bloody temps as well, and I've seen ALL of you pull off stunts and tricks FAR more horrid than what I did! And by horrid, I mean, by MY standards! And Pip and Emma, WHAT THE HELL?! As far as I'm concerned, molestation and RAPE is not within work ethics! 'Arry, Bert, don't you guys THINK - ah, who am I kidding? - that your trainee should still be IN ONE PIECE, or at least, ALLIVE after the first day?!"

He then cast his penal glance at the ponies and the dragon.

"And don't YOU think I'll think YOU'RE in the all-clear? PAH! It's exactly the innocent looking little critters ALL should be careful with."

He looked at each one of them, individually:

"So, tell me, pegasus, exactly WHAT are rainbows made of?!"

Rainbow Dash took a step back, her pupils suddenly pinprick-sized, and her eyes filling with hot tears of shock and dread.

"Or what about you? Is it ONLY apples you and your emotionless brother had been slicing in that farmhouse of yours?"

Applejack stumbled back, eyes wide with fear, and her expression being a mixture of anger and disbelief.

"SO, HAVE you EVER considered making leather clothes, fashionista? Perhaps using the full pallet of the SPECTRUM?!"

Rarity's eyes became watery, her head hanging down in a weird sense of grief, as she tried to hold back the tears - and failed.

"And let us not forget the bookworm! So, HOW FAR have you've advanced in your experiments, you lunatic?!"

Twilight heaved back, pupils shrunk and shaking, as a single tear rolled down from her eyes. The incredible, oppressing feeling of terror had taken reign in her heart.

"And don't think I've forgotten you, Butchershy! I just wonder WHY the woodland critters even DARE to come any close to you with that ominous shed of yours. They must smell it from MILES!"

Fluttershy covered her mouth, as if trying to hold back a scream, as her pupils became plate-sized and shiny by the tears. She plopped onto her flanks, feeling miserable.

Pinkie stood foreward, looking less-than-confident, as if her attempts were propelled by vanity. They weren't of course, but that's what it just looked like.

"I'm not s-scared of you!" she muttered, with a cracked voice "Ha! Ha! H-ha!"

Diesel's expression turned commiserative.

"I guess that's alright..." he replied, before a viscious look came over his face "...Considering that YOU should be more afraid of YOURSELF! Isn't that right, Pinkamena?"

Pinkie Pie suddenly found herself in a dark and empty place, illuminated by a single spotlight locked on her. She slumped to the ground, her mane and tail deflating and straightening out, her heart filled with sorrow.

"B-But... That's just... A... A fanfic..." she muttered, desperately.

"...In OUR world, maybe..." the nefarious diesel replied "...But here, it's a mean old rumor. And you know what rumors are like..." he grinned evily, before breaking into a short cackle "MADE ANY DELICIOUS, SINFUL CUPCAKES RECENTLY, EY, DIANA?! HA HA HAA!"

He then turned his gaze to the last equestrian standing.

"Ah, and you there, dragon boy... Hmmm... We'll see, what'll time prove: personality, or race? Occasion, or history? Your love..." he smirked, savouring the moment "...Or your GREED?"

Spike just stared, his body becoming rigid, as he wept, a horrified, sad expression growing on his face...

"Okay, that's quite enough, Diesel!" Derek interrupted, sounding quite angered.

"Yeah, calm the fuck down, you maniac!" Bowler added "Sure, we did quite a few mistakes--..."

"Mistakes?! MISTAKES?! You nearly DROWNED that engine in BLEACH!"

"I mean, errors, but we all live in the same place. You know, how the saying goes: Such as life!"

"Exactly my point! After ALL we've been trough and put EACH OTHER trough, I don't know what you find so blooming hurtful in what I did to that little sod!"

"That's it exactly! That it was YOU that turned Steamie into a clinic case!" Stuck-Up replied "NONE of us went as far as THAT!"

"What?! I thought you already KNEW...! Never mind. Anyways, NONE of us?" Diesel retorted, shooting a glance at the High-speed twins.

"Well, truth as it is, I still don't understand WHAT these mares have ever done to you!" Derek snapped, his anger catching the black shunter off guard "I say, you own an appology to them, Diesel!"

"E-Exactly!" Cromwell replied "You don't answer someone who opens his or her hands - or hooves - to you with generosity, to offer you his or her friendship, with mental and moral terror!"

After listening to all the reasons, Diesel did something he rarely does:

He reconsidered his act.

And then, he took a deep breath...

"Oh, all right, alright..." he grumbled, before turning to the ponies "I'm sorry I've upset you like that, but I can't just stand and bare people look at me reprehensibly for things I can't fully be blamed for! You don't even fully know us! And you don't know what OUR world is like, either... Well, actually, you do, as I've told you: rough, dirty, and horribly unfair. And yes, that's on a fairly good day. We are, but born like this. All of us." he said, glancing over his associates with the faintest, mere hint of compassion "It's not OUR fault, that we are such awful engines! We are a product of our environment!"

"Indeed." Stuck-up added "Just TRY to spend a week, working for the Thin Git, on the Other Railway! You'll be as morose and harsh as us in a matter of hours."

"Our worl' is a shi'y place, whe'e ya HA'E ev'ryon' else's guts, an' we HAV' t' see each othe' EV'RY DAY! An' we 'aven' eve' MENT'ONED tru's, co'ches, O' pass'ngers!" Spamcan joined in.

"You see, dear ponies, we all have our fair share of manure every day. We live in a place where everyone else rather dies, and our only sole purpose in life is what we're built for: work. And everyone around us claims it's better NOT to work, to have others do the job for you. And naturally, these people are the greatest examples of their words!" Bowler grumbled.

"You see it now?" Diesel asked "It's shit, isn't it? But, that's our home. And that's our life. We can't chose it. ESPECIALLY we. You're having a bigger share of luck there. Bigger than our's, anyway." the shunter noticed he wasn't helping, so he changed his tone "So, why worry about a few horrid rumors. I have a feeling this world is not as sugar-coated as I've expected, so a little notoriety will only help you." he finished.

And, after a small pause:

"You're not angry at me, are you?"

"...No..."

The engines' eyes shot fully open.

"WHAT?!"

"I m-mean... W-we would've r-reacted the s-same way..." Twilight's voice was still shaky, but she slowly regained the precious confidence she'd lost. And with that, came a wry, small smile "W-Well, not the SAME way, b-but... Similarly..." she muttered, smiling gently.

"Yeah..." Rainbow Dash was being careful not to sound sad "Not as harsh... Not THIS harsh..."

"All in all..." Applejack continued "But not QUITE th' same..."

"Apology accepted." Fluttershy replied, her tears already dried up.

"That's good to hear." Diesel replied, smiling a gentle, honest smile. It made his face lighten up, and look nicer.

"You know what THIS recalls for?' Pinkie suddenly asked, her mane back in shape "A PAR-TAAAY!!!"

But as the confetti and balloons flew out, the High-Speed Twins interrupted:

"Yes. A MODERATE one." said Emma.

"Indeed. A MATURE one." said Pip.

"Huh?" Pinkie replied "Moderate? Mature? How is THAT fun?" she asked, looking puzzled.

"Oh, it has it's joy." Stuck-up replied. "But first, do you have any... Beverages?"

"Drinks? Sure." Twilight replied "Wait, what sort?"

"Hmmmm... Weeell... That of the alcoholic kind?" Cromwell asked.

"But we aren't allowed to drink any yet!" Fluttershy replied, but upon noticing the disapproving looks coming from the cyan pegasus and the orange earth pony, she asked "Are we?"

"Well, don' worry, we are." Bert smirked "An' I suggest ya brin' sum ligh' stuff fo' ya'self, then."

"So... Booze, is it?" Applejack asked, before pondering "Weeeell..."

A good 20 minutes later, she returned, doing what seemed to be impossible: rolling an ENORMOUS barrel, as long as Old Stuck-up, Spamcan, and Bowler coupled together, and as wide as Pip and Emma, back to back.

"I hope ya'll like cider. - the earth pony called out - 'Cause then ya'll LOVE Zap-apple cider."

After moments of recovery from the heavenly sight, the engines' grin grew wide.

"Ho' do ya li'e THEM apples?" Bert snickered. 'Arry's mouth was too watery for him to speak.

"Well... This'll be an interesting party..." Steamie muttered, coming back from the portal "By the way, everyone's here!"

The noon turned afternoon over time, and then, to evening...

Celestia had just lowered the sun, and the party was still on the move.

A drinking contest had started up between the mares, and between the mares and engines... The Traveler, claiming that as a god, he shouldn't drink, just sat down, quietly watching the events...

Applejack usually had the strength for drinks FAR more stronger than cider, but ZAP-apple cider was no simple drink. Her opponent was the grimy goods engine, Spamcan. And he drank with gusto. This cider of some sort was fairly good, had a nice kick, and warmed him up inside, delicately. The Class 46 never had problems with alcohol, and he was a heavy drinker, anyway, tough, that may be because he was a diesel, had fuel tanks FAR bigger than a pony's belly - or entire digestive system.

By this point, the orange mare felt bloated, and she could literally hear the liquor slosh inside her after the slightest movement. With a rather loud, impolite burp, she plopped onto her flanks, groaning dreadfully... The diesel laughed rudely, before he called out to her.

"Oi, wha's up, pony? Can' ya ta'e a drink?"

Applejack's initial reaction was to accept the next wave of this long-stretching challenge, but as she stood back up, she actually FELT her stomach sway back and forth with a gurgle... Letting out another, smaller burp, she slowly sat back down, rubbing her stomach with a hoof.

"A-Ah don't know, sugahcube..." she moaned "Ah feel too full..."

Spamcan smiled at her in a big-brotherly-fatherly way, before spitting out the hose which he used to drink the cider from the tanker truck shunted beside him.

"Then I guess I shoul' ca'l i' a fi'ish fo' t'day." he replied, before belching loudly, which was followed by a long flame flaring out from his exhaust chutes "'Scuse me." he grinned, in a way that even made the soon-to-be-stiff-drunk earth pony chuckle.

A dark figure tried to reach the hose. It's hooves were just at it's tip, when...

"NO!" Applejack snapped, and swiped the pipe away "No, Rainbow Dash, you can' have any cider! Your home is up in the air! The last thing we need is to have you stuck in jail, OR in hospital..."

"Or in a coffin!" the goods engine added.

"...OR in a coffin, because of drunk flyin'! No way, sarge, not on MY cider!"

"...Cider..." the cyan pegasus whimpered with puppy eyes.

"Sorry, lass!" D199 replied, smirking mordantly "We'e too DRUN' fo' THA' t' 'ave effec' on us! Bu' don' worry, WE won' fly! Heheheheee..."

This gave Dash an idea.

"Actually..." she began "I'm sleeping at Fluttershy's tonight..."

"All the better!" the orange pony replied "Then you'll ESPECIALLY have to stay sober! 'Shy had already had her fair share!" she continued, pointing towards a very merry-looking yellow pegasus, resting on the ledge going around a certain green and yellow Class 17's engine blocks.

"Oh, I say, this cider sure is yummy!" said Derek, cheerily. Unlike most Other Railway engines, he didn't had a problem keeping in track of how many ethanol (or methanol) he devoured, and also, had a bigger alcohol tolerance than what most engines would have expected (on the other buffer, drunkenness hit him like a ton of bricks).

"You said it. *hic* Hihiheee..." Fluttershy squirmed, a strong booze-blush spread across her face, as she leaned against Derek's engine...

"Oh my. Miss Fluttershy, I believe you had quite enough."Derek scolded her paternalistically.

"Nuuu, just a little more..." the pegasus replied between another *hic* and chuckle...

Upon seeing that, Rainbow Dash's face fell, and she slowly flew between the two hazard-striped shunters.

"OI! Ya two ain' dri'in' t'nigh'?" the goods engine asked them.

"No' t'nigh'!" 'Arry replied "'Der' moigh' be sum wor' t'morrow."

The rainbow-maned pony approached them.

"Hey guys..." she uttered, moping "Can I bunk here?"

The Iron Twins exchanged looks.

"Sur', go a'ea'." 'Arry replied.

"Ya can slee' i' one o' ou' cabs." Bert added.

"Thanks, guys." Dash replied, smiling slightly, before flying into Bert's cab.

It was as grimy on the inside as it was on the outside, with the control panel all greasy, and the floor littered with cigarette stumps and one or two plastic cups, and the floor covered with ash, soot and damp dust. The worn leatherette seat, on the other hand, seemed to be very comfortable... After a bit of fumbling, she found a lever that turned the seat into an rudimentary bed. Lumpy, and too small for a human, it was perfect for the bereft pegasus.

She slumped down, and fell asleep instantly.

Little did she know, that the twins only dared to rest after she had began snoozing.

The party rocked on, moderately and maturely, as it was requested. Only half of the engines were pissed already, most of the trucks were down, the coaches had only began.

Old Stuck-up, the senior express engine of the railway, was among his (tipsy) express coaches, who were busy chatting with each other. The diesel was also well over a few 'botties' (especially since he was drinking from drums), and was keeping eye contact - at least, trough his monocle - with Rarity. The white mare was also done with a few shots by now, her glass refilled every now and then by an eager Spike, until she sent him to rest (as he nearly broke the barrel when he buckled, falling asleep).

Afterwards, she was refilling the glass herself, whilst having a conversation with the posh engine about royalties.

Both of them were quite fuddled by now, but they kept good control of it, otherwise, they'd long by then would of became the laughing stock among the others.

"I'm telling you, dear, our Princess Celestia is truly as benevolent and noble as everyone says so. True, there ARE these horrid gossips going around, buuut... Also, there's Prince Luna, and she's just the exploratory statue of innocence! Well, even if a bit forceful at times..." the fashionista pony finished with a smirk and a snorting giggle.

"I must say, that sounds swell, darling!" Stuck-up replied, with the mere hint of grogginess in his voice "Far better than our scandalous "Royal" family! I've seen more royalties in fast food restaurants than in the Palace!" and he broke into a blustering guffaw.

Gradually, both of them came down with drunkenness, with Stuck-up parked aside from the crowd, his monocle laying on the grass, and Rarity all nested up in the grand, fake fur covered seat in his cab.

"Hehee, I'm quite tanked up right now..." Steamie chuckled, his face red after the many barrels of cider.

"Ya sure are, young'un." BoZo replied.

BoZo was a... Wee engine, to say the least. A rare steam-diesel hybrid, he could be either considered as a unique attempt in locomotive design, or, more realistically, a horrible abomination of enginekind. Being built up from scratch (AND without any sort of planning), from half-worthy parts cannibalized from scrapped engines, he had more leaks than a WAG's head. Strangely enough, while visibly blowing out thick plumes of used steam and diesel exhaust, he still - SOMEHOW - met the emission standards of Britain - that including the smoking ban in public places. As for sight, he looked like a tank engine of some sort, with a long boiler and angular side tanks, a dome that seemed to be a simple metal pipe cut down in size with an oversized beer cap welded on it, a funnel that was truly funnel shaped, and dent on the middle, making it lean forwards slightly. He had six wheels joined by traction rods, and a small pair of wheels behind, to support the weight of the flat-roofed cab. His - very probably intoxicated - designers and creators gave him - very fittingly - a steam horn, which he loved to blow on until he was all out of breath or got arrested for public disturbance.

How, or rather, WHY he even worked was a mystery. He did, and aside from the common leaks and occasional overhauls - or something - he was working fine. I mean, he was only second to Derek in the break-down department.

At the moment, both his fuel tank, his boiler, AND every other part of him were a different liquid should be was filled to the brim with cider. Sweet-smelling gasses and vapors were spreading from his fractions in thick plumes, knocking out everyone around them.

Everyone, except for Pinkie.

It was either the fact that the laws of physics, and thus, normal body physics don't applied to her, or the fact that she was already plastered, forgetting the fact that this wasn't just ANY cider, but ZAP-apple cider, which was known for it's high levels of Rainbow spirit, apple fiber, and ethanol. For the diesels' delight, mostly ethanol.

Saying she was tipsy would been like saying water is wet, the sky is blue, Stuck-Up's a posh twat, Spamcan's a filthy bastard, Derek's a wuss, Bowler's a hypochondriac, 'Arry & Bert are dimwitted thugs, Pip & Emma are bitchy liberals, BoZo's a design catastrophe, Steamie's a sugar-coated, scheming little lunatic (thanks again, Diesel), trucks are annoying little twits, Twilight Sparkle's an obsessive-compulsive book-addict, Rainbow Dash is a tomboy with a questionable sexual preference (at least, from the outside), Applejack's a try-hard applebucker, Rarity's a dress-maniac perfectionist, Fluttershy's shy, Princess Celestia is sunny, Princess Luna is unintentionally anti-social, Discord is stoned, and so on, ed cetera, blah blah blah, yaddy yaddy yadda...

Eh, I'm getting off topic.

So, Pinkie was tipsy like there's no tomorrow, and could do nothing more than to giggle at everything she saw, her face red with party "spirit". And there sure was, at least, ONE thing to giggle about: a queer-looking purple-pink mare with airy, floating mane and tail, she herself floating in the air as well, making funny faces and random noises. She was an earth pony, but she was held up by her slightly inflated flank, while her front was propelled by a green propeller beanie. Her swirly, spiraling pupils darted around randomly, clearly, she was not much as drunk as interested in the weird machines from the other world - she seemed to have a particularly strong interest in Steamie, popping up - or out - at the most random ends of the little locomotive, a jokey smile on her face.

The Doctor had fallen asleep after one shot, leaving Derpy to have a gastronomic discussion with the ever-attentive Vac.

"So you see, the key principal when serving a muffin is - aside from the quality of the muffin itself - the butter. Both quality and amount is important. I'd also like to take this opportunity to warn you. You should NOT, not even in the direst of situations, use..." she shuddered here "...Margarine..."

"Similar things could be said about mignons..." the lazy-eyed diesel replied "While my best advise is to go easy on the icing, I wouldn't stop you from creating new tastes and types. Chocolate mint, with a rum punch filling, for example, if I may use such sayings, really takes the biscuit."

Diesel had parked aside, and was watching the party from a distance. He exchanged a few sophisticated and unsophisticated words with the Brakefather earlier on, and was now watching the others prepared their hangovers. He also had tanker parked beside him, this one actually fitted with a beer tap. His hose was hang on a fork-ended rod that was sticked into the ground in front of him, enabling him to reach out to it with his tongue whenever he felt like drinking.

Deep in thoughts, the jet black shunter was interrupted by a faint purple light... In the distance, he saw the silhouette of a pony, a unicorn, by the looks of it. As it approached, he could identify it's fur color - and thus, it's gender.

"Oh, it's you." he murmured, as Twilight approached him.

"Hello." she greeted him timidly. The Class 08 groaned.

"Ugh, don't be like that." he muttered with annoyance in his voice "I won't bite your head off, or anything."

"Oh! In that case, can I sit here?" she asked. The engine groaned, and rolled his eyes.

"Sure, whatever."

So Twilight sat beside him.

She could've rested her head on the side of the short ladder that led to Diesel's footplate, if she would've dared.

They sat in silence for some time. Twilight felt awkward, she wished to talk to somebody, but if the weird, and considerably mean machine beside her wouldn't talk, neither would she.

But just as the silence grew uncomfortable for her, Diesel spoke up.

"If you're still upset because of my little outburst, then by all means, unload your boring emotional trash bag on me. I couldn't care less. And it'll only be better to you, and la-dee-da..." he mumbled.

The lavender unicorn blinked. Did the locomotive just been offensive and emphatic in the same time?

She couldn't comprehend the idea. This was beyond her concept of cynicism or sarcasm. She couldn't figure out his intentions.

Diesel sipped some cider, face still blank and emotionless, aside from the slight feeling of superiority and the vast, touchable feel of disinterest.

Twilight decided to start again:

"Nice party, isn't it?" she asked, trying to sound hearty "I mean, we followed you guys'... Request..."

"Yeah, you sure did. Smashing party, by the way." came the half-hearted reply "The drink selection could be a BIT wider, though. But I guess I'll just have to get used to it."

"Why? It's not like you're staying here... Forever." the unicorn replied, trying to mimic the diesel's nonchalant mood, and failing miserably in the process. Fortunately, Diesel himself was too unobservant to notice, or care.

"Who knows..." he replied, after a brief silence "Derek's USUALLY not the one to read the small font bit... Although the devices worked out well, SO FAR..."

"Uh-huh..." the purple pony replied.

There was a long pause.

"Diesel..."

The engine glanced at her...

"Why are you... You guys... So sullen?" Twilight asked, looking into his eyes for the first time. All of the engines seemed to have black pupils and irises, fused together, yet, not giving them a "high" look. The light of the night sky reflected in Diesel's eyes as a single spot of white light in the top corners.

"Trough my life so far, I've never seen anything like you guys, and honestly..." Twilight continued, cocking her head to the side, raising a suddenly visible eyebrow "Is there sedative in your fuel tanks... Or whatever you have? Because surely, no one can be THIS bitter and live longer than a day or two."

Diesel sneered.

"Then you better buckle up, Missy. I think I've clearly told you before, that we engines and our personality, our manner, or more likely, the lack of them, and our "work ethics" are, but an accident. We're a product of our environment, raised and blossomed under the less than bothered eye of the Thin Git, living and working on, arguably, the WORST region of the Mainland Railway System, know as the Barrow Regional Transit for business people and rail fags."

Diesel lowered her eyelids, as if remembering.

"Yep. That rotten place where the sun don't shines, thanks to all the bloody factories, heat plants and motorways that cover the air in thick smoke, 24 hours a day. Were the rich is truly dumb and snobbish, where all the chavs thrive. Manners, punctuality and such rubbish rot in the depths of the scrap heap. The budget is lower than a politician's limbo stick. The quality is worse than awful, and all your colleagues are either repulsive, derelict, or downright insane - apart from the occasional wussies and bleeding hearts, naturally.

The engine's gaze turned back to Twilight.

"Our world is different. I've mentioned that before, haven't I? It's cruel. It's crummy. It's shabby and horrid and unfair. People are just a big mass, a sea of faces, all grumpy and smelly. Concrete and smog killing out all the green. And wherever you are, the grass - if there is any - is ALWAYS greener on the other side. And the clouds are only silver lined if the local chemical plant had a leak somewhere. The only way we survived this far is because we're the biggest bastards ever to thread the rails on God's green Earth. And it's not only us diesels, the electrics are just as grouchy and rigid as us, if not more. And those few steam engines that are left are either delirious with near-psychotic levels of euphoria, cranky, or just full of botox and Prozac, and infantile. And even if they aren't they usually have a gutter full of dark secrets from over their long years of hard work - well, in any case, more than absolute, ever-ruling boredom!"

He took a deep breath, and continued:

"The jobs we have are just as bad as everything else, and make everything else even worse. As a result, we're probably the biggest slackers ever to exist, which is quite ironic, considering our sole purpose is to WORK 'til withdrawal. Such as life, I guess. Ranging from radioactive waste disposal runs to the nearest docks to manure delivery from Compost Farms to the Irish border, our work orders are as delightful as repeated enemas, done with sulfuric acid! And I haven't even mentioned the SEWAGE train!"

Diesel groaned in irritation, as Twilight sat silently beside him.

Suddenly, as if guided by an impulse, she climbed up onto the engine's footplate, and, after a moment of hesitation, nuzzled his cool, grey cheek.

After a moment, she stopped, but sat there, still leaning against the ladder going up on his front to the top.

"Well, I can promise one thing: If you're willing to accept this world's normalcy, me and my friends will surely make sure you'll find this place as much enjoyable as... I don't know... Something you enjoy."

"I don't LIKE joy." Diesel replied coldly "Nor do I like hope. But that's very noble of you, Twilight Sparkle."

"You're very welcome, Devious Diesel."

"Wait... HOW do you know my nickname?" the shunter suddenly asked.

Twilight was surprised. Indeed, HOW did she knew? She couldn't tell...

"It just... Came to my tongue?" she replied.

That seemed to settle the black machine.

"Well... If you're feeling as bloody worn out as I am, you'll find a clean seeping bag in by cab. The door's open, and the seat is adjustable. Don't ask why. Workmen aren't allowed to sleep in their engines." Diesel's thoughts trailed off "Yet, this wouldn't be the first time our lowly controller finally decided to spend money, and does it wrong. We aren't called 'The Other Railway' for nothing, you know."

"Why "Other" Railway?" the unicorn asked, on her way to the cab.

The engine smirked.

"That's me to know and you to figure out." he said, sipping into his cider.

Prologue - Part 5

The next morning came.

The elder princess had already raised the sun, and it's rays were shining brightly, covering the land in the gentle light that was so often noticed in Celestia's violet eyes, warming up the ground with the heat said to be akin to the warmth of kindness in the heart of the diarch.

So, it was around 9:30 AM.

"AOUUUGH, my HEAD!" Twilight Sparkle groaned, her hooves instantly at her forehead, kneading it fiercely... Slowly, she opened one eye. Then the other, and blinked. Above herself, she could see a dirty white ceiling. She sat up, and looked around...

She was in something like a quite small cab, sitting on an opened chair-bed. To her left was a control panel of some sort, with many levers, knobs and dials, and with two narrow, oblong windows on each sides of it, blinding light shining trough them brightly... Both behind and in front of her was a door and a window on the wall, which was seemingly covered in some dirty gray plastic wallpaper. The floor, was covered in some cheap, gray linoleum, though the color was hardly recognizable, is it was nearly black with grime, especially around the wall. To her right were two larger, square windows. Looking trough them, or more likely, trying to look trough the badly scratched glass in them, she could see a dimly lit room with a brick wall at the back - some rails, coming from under the cab, led straight to it...

Still unsure of what to think of all of this, she tried to get down from the seat... But instead, she slipped off, and fell onto the dirty floor...

Looking around, she noticed she was in a sleeping bag. Tugging it off, she opened the metal door, and stepped outside...

...Tumbling down onto the ground, as the cab was slightly higher than the ground...

"This isn't my day..." she muttered, as she got up...

Walking out into the light, she could see where she slept the night.

The nefarious jet black shunting diesel had been parked in some sort of large brick shed, with many large double doors on it, and with rails leading out from under them...

Diesel himself was at the door, partly outside the shed, snoozing quietly. The lavender pony embraced the warm rays of the sun, quietly uttering a prayer to Celestia, then turned back to the sleeping engine.

The glum look didn't left his face, even when he was sleeping, thought it softened a bit.

Twilight took a deep breath... She had a feeling she'll need all her confidence to do what what she did next.

"Wake up, Diesel!" she said, semi-loudly.

The engine snorted, then, with a hurriedly uttered "Huh-Wha...?" and rapid blinking, he woke up. Slowly but surely, he opened his eyes, and looked around, still tired. Finally, his saggy eyes fell on the purple unicorn in front of his buffers. His eyes shot wide open, eyebrows raised comically high and shaking slightly, along with his - for the moment - pin prick sized pupils, before they sank back into their original position - an indifferent, slightly scornful look.

"Oh, it's you again..." he murmured, somberly "Guess I wasn't dreaming then..."

"No, it seems you weren't..." Twilight smiled at him warmly, trying very hard to overcome the urging need to turn her back to the unfriendly machine (and race off to find a toilet) "And neither were I. So... Where are the others?" she asked, looking around...

"In the sheds, I presume..." Diesel replied, sounding disinterested and disheartened "That stick figure, Alexei, magicked a bunch of sheds for us out of thin air. We parked in while you were sleeping..."

"Wait, how can you move without a driver?" the unicorn suddenly asked.

"Good question, but I'm afraid you wouldn't understand..." the engine answered in a pompous manner. This made Twilight frown. She narrowed her eyes, and gave a gave a valiant smile.

"Try me! - she muttered.

Diesel rolled his eyes, as if metaphorically shrugging his shoulders, then began...

Twenty minutes later, he finished, and glanced down upon a... Quite unsettling sight...

Twilight, who looked bed-headed before, now seemed to look like someone who should be bedridden, eyes and ears randomly twitching, face squinted in an excruciating expression with eyes stretched open, her mane and tail a tangled mess, and she was laying on her side, gently hugging and rubbing her hair to her chest, while she pat it with one of her hooves...

The shunter looked down at her, bemused and amused, before chuckling sarcastically:

"Now I've seen everything! An anthropomorphic Post-Beatnik on crack!"

This made Twilight shot upright into a strained standing position, before she began to fidget around.

"WHAT?! No, I'm. Fine. Thanks for worrying, but... Everything is alright..." she said, near incoherently fast, before breaking into a demented giggle. Diesel stared on, before a serious expression came over his face.

"Alright. So, you're all fine?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, YES. I am." the purple pony replied, with a strained smile...

"You sure?" Diesel asked again, his eyes narrowed. He was taken aback, as the unicorn began to rapidly nod, or more like shake her head up and down violently.

"Alright." he replied, after a long while "Then go AND VISIT A BLOODY BATHROOM!"

Twilight stopped fidgeting, and gazed up at him with wandering, puppy eyes. "What?"

"What "what"? You didn't truly believe that I wouldn't notice, did you? And to think you're a mature mare..." he sighed, rhetorically "Anyways, do us all a favor, and excuse yourself while you still can..." he snapped, then grumbled to himself "The last thing I want in the morning is to have my wheels covered in horse urine."

He looked back down, only to see a slightly-offended-looking pony staring at him with an eyebrow raised.

"WHAT are ya still doing here?" he snapped, making her squirm, and try to look smaller "Go to the bloody loo!"

And Twilight, with her ears lowered and tail in between her hind legs, trotted of, then, when she thought she was enough far, raced of at Mach 4, to find the nearest restroom.

When she came back, all the other mares and engines were awake, and the engines that slept in the other sheds were waking up as well...

"Good mornin', Twahligh'!" Applejack greeted her.

"'Mornin'!" Spamcan added, as casual and devil-may-care as possible. Applejack was apparently at his buffers, examining them, and trying to rub of a bit of grime from it with her front legs...

"Ya sure ya shoul' be doin' tha'?" the dirty blue diesel asked "I mea', do ya 'NO' wha's on those buffe's?"

The orange mare's eyes went wide, before she reversed slightly, but still, she kept observing his buffers.

"Hmmm... A bit filthy, ah grant ya... Bu' still, with a bit of TLC, he'll be as spic and spam as new!"

"Mhhh!" Spamcan grumbled "I already had ma fai' sha'e o' spam, thank ya. An' th' LAST bloo'y thin' I wanna do is loo' li'e tha' posh TWA', Stu'k-Up!"

"Indeed, the LAST damned thing we'd need here is a filthy COMMON engine posing as such important high-society member as I AM." the latter named replied, not much as posh as blustering.

"What's the matter, darling?" Rarity asked, stepping out from behind the the express engine.

"They're at it again..." Applejack replied, and both mares groaned.

Old Stuck-up and Spamcan never parked beside each other in the sheds, naturally, but when they did, it was "argue-argue-argue" for hours on end!

In fact, the other engines, and the mares woke up to their distraught yell and the first wave of many swears, curses and name-calling.

And by now, they had a gutful of it. Especially a certain orange earth pony and an oversized marshmall--... I mean, white unicorn.

"Ah, WILL YA SHOVE A SOCK IN IT?!" Applejack snapped.

"You've been bantering since we woke up!" Rarity added "I can't imagine what you've got yourselves so worked up about, but it's about time you two come to a common ground, and, more importantly, be quiet for a moment!"

"Yeah, just what set ya up at each other?" the orange mare asked.

"Oh, i's nothin'..." Spamcan replied, sarcastically "We jus' CAN' STAN' each othe'!"

"The LAST thing BOTH OF US, I presume, wanted, is to woke up with the other by it's side!" Stuck-Up added "And indeed, the LAST thing I want to start the morning is a filthy goods engine beside me! I already fill dirty, and I'm roughly a two meters from him!"

"Actually, ya dum' twa', i's exa'ly 2 me'ers, 4 decime'ers and 8 centime'ers, plus-minus 3 milime'ers."

After a long, awed stare, Stuck-Up finally retorted:

"Well, so it is!" he replied, still baffled by the head freight engine's precision. He then turned his gaze on the two ponies in front of them "And you two are the LAST who should be complaining! You yourselves aren't the best chatting partners from what we've heard!"

The two mares just stared, before blinking.

"And just where, pray tell, did you heard THAT?" Rarity asked, suspiciously.

The two diesels blinked, before they slowly looked at each other, their gloomy looks turning into knowing, guileful smirks, as they slowly looked back down onto the now less confident ponies. Pinkie, feeling that another painful humiliation was about to come, stepped forward, and readied herself - she didn't know horseapples about the engines' relations, aside from the fact that they hated each other, AND that despite this, they were still capable to work with - or against - each other. But other than that, she had no idea how to put up a banter with them. She still had to try, even though they seemed to know many rather... Touchy subjects about them. Most of these were fanfics, or, as they put it, "rumors", but still... She shuddered at the thought. Still, she had friends to stand up for.

But in the end, she didn't needed to stand up - well, at least, not as much as she expected.

"Why..." Stuck-up began, in a low, slick baritone "You know what rumors are like..."

The two mares' eyes went wide, and they gulped.

"Yeaah..." Spamcan added, his rough voice "smoothing" to raspy "Dey tell tales 'bou' two ma'es who argue all th' time. Dey also dey do i' ou' o' "difference i' class" or sum'hin'. Bu' MANY say the'e's sum'hin' DEEPE' be'in' all dis argue... If ya catch my meanin'..." he finished, both he and Stuck-Up were staring at them with fiendish looks on their faces, their grin wide, but narrow, full of malice and mischief.

Applejack and Rarity, on the other hand, looked more than a bit embarrassed. This awkward part of the rumors were left unknown to them till then. They looked away sheepishly, eyes cast down, their face flushed in a VERY deep shade.

Rainbow Dash came to their aid. Or at least attempted to.

"And WHAT makes you think YOU guys weren't, eeerrr... "COUPLING" last night?"

For a very brief moment, a hint of surprise and hesitancy came across the two engine's face, but it left, as fast as it came. Their expressions turned serious.

"Well, for your information, you living Skittles commercial..." the express diesel began, already confusing the pegasus "...If we WOULD'VE, indeed, "coupled" last night, there WOULD HAVE BEEN specific and very obvious signs of that!" he finished, indignantly.

"Also, wha's up wi' you an' se's?" Spamcan asked in grouchy manner "We've just arrived, an' ya already began shi'in' us! How more perverse can ya ge'?!"

As the full meaning of the sentences sank in, the rainbow pegasus began to blush, which turned deeper, and deeper...

"I must say, you'd better get a tight grip on your hormones, my dear..." the posh engine added with a sardonic tone.

At that moment, Alexei teleported to the site, with a parchment in his hands.

"'Scuse me for popping in like this, do you lot have a moment... Eh?" when he finally looked up, he saw that the engines and the ponies were looking at him, but most particularly, a very dazed and surprised looking Rainbow Dash, Rarity and Applejack were staring at him with deep blushes on their cheeks, and that Old Stuck-Up and Spamcan also looked very distraught...

"Am I... Interrupting something?" he asked, bewildered.

"NO!" came the suspiciously hasty reply from the five.

"Oouuh... Kay?" the Space Lord replied, raising an eyebrow "Anyways, I have some good news... And some bad news..."

"OK then..." Bowler replied "Let's start with the bad news... It's best to over them as soon as possible."

The others muttered their agreement...

Spike came out from beside Cromwell, yawning...

"Ugh, what's happening?" he asked.

"Spike! Where have you been?" Twilight snapped, sounding more worried than angry.

"Sleeping on Mr. Bottosly, or what's his name..." he replied.

"Wow, an' ya survived?" Bert asked.

"Ya could've blown us t' kingdom come!" 'Arry growled.

"ANYWAYS!" Bowler snapped "WHAT are the BAD news?"

Alexei sighed.

"Well, it pains me to say this, but... Derek really SHOULD HAVE read the small print part. The device you guys use is actually a ONE way ticket. You can't return to your home dimension directly, you'll have to go trough EVERY timeline in the OMNIVERSE to get back, but unfortunately, you can't even do that, because the warrant of the devices expires... Right now."

And that very moment, with green electric scintillation, some small devices fell off from under the engines' front buffer plates or cabs, and continued sizzling and crackling on the ground, before they finally stopped, letting out dark gray smoke and the smell of burning plastic.

The engines let out a gasp of shock and horror, their faces distorted with a mortified expression, and similar sounds came from the sheds around them. Derek winced. He could already feel Diesel's glare on himself.

"...But thankfully, the rail generators will still work for a few weeks, which exactly the time we need..."

"The time we need... For what?" Pip asked.

"Well, I'll explain that in a moment. The good news is, her highnesses, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna would like to see the representatives of the visitors in the throne hall of the Royal Castle, at Canterlot." and with that, he looked up from the parchment, and snickered "...Right now..."

This instantly changed the engines mood. They were all very excited... But soon, a question arose.

"And who will be the representatives?" Twilight asked.

Silence fell among them. They all exchanged puzzled looks.

Then Derek asked:

"Have there been any volunteers?"

The god shook his head.

"Well, then I guess we could go, can't we?" the Class 17 asked cheerfully.

"Indeed, we can!" Stuck-Up declared "Let's get going then! And you, mares and dragon..." he said, looking down at the equestrians "You shall accompany us... For we haven't the slightest clue, where the castle is located..."

The ponies exchanged glances, then Flutterhsy pointed onto a mountain. The engines eyes slowly followed where she was pointing... Roughly at the middle, they could see the castle-like city built on an out-cropping.

Their face fell, as they looked at the distance and height...

"Well, there ARE rail tracks leading up to it..." Rarity informed them.

"Good..." Stuck-Up replied in tired manner "This'll still take time..."

And under their breath, all muttered:

"Bugger!"

In the royal castle, the many ponies of the aristocracy were gathering. The Princesses themselves were already there. Princess Celestia had already done her rounds, having short chats with the guests, and was sitting down on her throne, when she noticed that her sister was sitting with a straight back, or more likely, a strained one. She was fidgeting with her hooves and her eyes darted around swiftly, often taking a glance out trough the windows, towards where Ponyville was.

"Is something bothering you, dear sister?" Celestia asked. Luna jumped slightly, and looked up.

"N-NO!" she replied, before noticing her sister's knowing smile "I mean... Yes..."

"Why, what is it?" the sun goddess asked again "Is it about the visitors?"

For a moment, Celestia THOUGHT she saw a STRONG hint of annoyance flashing trough her younger sibling's face.

"No..." Luna answered, her voice reflecting the small slip.

"It's about all these... Poshies... Pardon, ponies..." she continued, looking around nervously "Don't they... Don't they all know me?"

Her sister looked perplexed.

"Of course they do..." then, she suddenly realized. A wry, sad smile came over her face.

"Lulu..." she muttered "Remember... Forgive and forget... They know you're not the same mare that was Nightmare Moon..."

Upon noting the look on Celestia's face, Luna shook her head earnestly.

"It's not about that!" she replied "It's more about... What do they think of me, AS Princess Luna?" she muttered, again, taking a nervous glance around...

Celestia felt a laugh coming up...

"And wy-hy does THAT bother you?" she asked, suppressing a chuckle.

"Celly, I'm being serious!" Luna huffed "HOW can I socialize if I can't even TALK with them?" she was whisper-shouting by then. Her sister gave her a scolding smirk.

"Well, the first thing you should do is loosen up a bit!" she replied "As modern and casual they've became over the centuries, they're still not blind. They won't approach their princesses if they don't LOOK like they want to talk. And you've been sitting on the throne all this time, looking like the statue of authority. It's about time you got up from your flanks and start MEET them. Also, if you're worried about rumors or anything, I'm pretty sure that if anyone, the Upper class is SURE to be trained in them, and could distinct truth from lie."

Luna looked blank.

"There are rumors about me?" she asked, with a shaky voice...

Celestia's eyes went wide for a split second, and while she resisted a strong urge to facehoof, she gently nudged her sister to a stand.

"You find out, and tell me." she replied "You've caught up on the world quite a lot, Lulu... But it's about time you got to know what's hot. Trust me, they're more than eager to meet you, and be your friends..." she couldn't help but chuckle a bit "...As much as their posh toff status-keeping allows them... But you shouldn't turn away from them! So go on! Have fun! And please, for our ranks' sake, refrain from using the RCV!"

Luna just rolled her eyes, and looked at the crowd. They didn't seem to notice her. So, she took a deep breath...

And with a few, unsteady steps, the Princess of the Night went off to meet the people of the day. It went quite well, actually...
Later, Celestia joined her, too.

"So, how's it going?" she asked. Luna looked giddy with joy.

"Swell." she replied "They're so... Nice! So... Casual."

A pained, disturbed grimace ran trough her muzzle.

"Though I'm kinda inwardly horrified about CERTAIN topics that came up in SOME discussions." she spoke, meekly.

Looking up, she saw the disquiet face of her sister, before noticing the rising flames of anger in her eyes.

"Oh, it's nothing THAT bad!" she added quickly "It's just that... They're a bit OVERLY casual in CERTAIN topics that..." she gulped here, and leaned close to her sister "...Even Nightmare Moon would of considered a taboo."

Celestia was taken aback, before snickering, which turned into a hearty laughter.

"Anyways..." she began, once she stopped laughing "Do you know anything of the visitors? They're a bit late..."

Now, it was Luna who had to urge herself NOT to laugh aloud.

"We-hell..." she replied "My informant said that it'll MIGHT take a bit of time, as they come by rail..."

"Oouuh..." she winced "THAT'LL surely take time."

"Yeah..." Luna muttered. The problems with the rail network were a constantly recurring topic, which both they, and the courts and congresses had procrastinated the BUCK out of.

"But..." Luna added "These visitors might be just what we need!"

"Are they?" Celestia asked, quite a bit surprised.

"Indeed." her sister smiled, before it turned into a smirk "But it's best if you'll see it for your self."

"Yes. Best." Celestia replied simply "ONCE they arrive."

"Once they arrive." Luna repeated, the smirk not leaving her face.

"Wow..." Fluttershy muttered, sitting in Derek's cab "That was... Interesting..."

They've just gotten pass the Royal Guards.

Derek smiled.

"As much as it is good if you're assertive, it's far from enough. You have to be clever as well, you know." and while he couldn't see, he could tell that the yellow pegasus smiled back...

"Keep your social lessons, Derek..." Stuck-Up grunted "We still have to barge our way up to the throne room..." he glanced at Twilight. He would've glanced on Rarity, but he had given her the privilege to travel in HIS cab "You DID prepared your, err, MAGIC, Ms. Sparkle, right?" he asked.

"Why?" the lavender unicorn asked back.

"Because without any doubt, we'll HARDLY fit trough the hallways, LET ALONE the doorways..."

Twilight froze, and stared into the air in front of her, before biting her lower lip, and cringing.

"Aw hay..." she whispered to herself...

By now, Princess Celestia had grown anxious. It was way pass noon, and the visitors have yet to arrived, and the ponies were short on patience. Luna, on the other hand, or hoof, shall I say, was relaxed. A guard had just told her the news. She smiled contently, and, as she saw her sister's nervous fidgeting, he smirked.

"Just you wait..." she thought, as day and a night guard went to the doors.

She suddenly stood up.

"Mares and gentlecolts!" she announced "The visitors have arrived, and now, without further hesitation, let us greet our guests from worlds afar."

The mass cheered, as the guards slowly opened the two wings of the door...

Revealing a perky purple plot.

"What?" one of them asked, bewildered. Twilight Sparkle looked up, turned around... And froze.

There was a long, awkward pause.

Both sides were staring at each other. One in astonishment, the other... Blankly...

After what seemed like an eternity, Princess Celestia shook her head, broking the stare.

"Twilight Sparkle!" she spoke, in a no-nonsense manner "What is the meaning of this?"

The unicorn blinked, and took a step back, her face burning with shame.

"What are you doing here?" the elder princess demanded indignantly "And where are the visitors?"

The tone of her mentor's voice made her cringe, and reverse further, head hanging low.

"Now, now, dear sister..." Luna soothed her "I'm pretty sure that our royal subject, who's also YOUR faithful student, has a verified reason for her intrusion." and with that, she turned to Twilight, who, along with the rest of the guests, stood still in amazement on Luna's daring behavior.

"Besides..." she spoke, purposely whispering loud enough for the crowd to hear "You shouldn't take out your anxiety on those who aren't guilty..."

And while her sister blushed madly, she took the opportunity to speak with the surprised pony in question.

"Tell me, my dear subject, what brought you here..."

Twilight, stuttering a bit, replied:

"E-Excuse m-my intrus-s-sion, your majesty... Majesties! I-I was guiding the visitors, and... Due to their physical structure..." she paused here.

"Well... Go on..." said the Sun Goddess, now in a conciliatory tone.

Twilight thought hard, trying to turn her thoughts into words. This usually happened automatically, but now, she found herself stumbling in her own thoughts.

"It's... It's best if you see them for yourselves" and with that, she walked forward, then turned towards the door.
The princesses exchanged glances, as the whispers filled the crowd.

The purple unicorns horn began to glow in a color similar to her fur, which grew into a humming aura around it.

There was a loud creak...

The door's wings began to shudder, then, much like a carpet being undusted, they began to pulse, waves coming from the middle, going towards the edges...

Suddenly, they both expanded to the side, pushing the frame, which also expanded like a rubber band. It grew wider and wider, until it was as wide as three-track rail line.

With a content smile, Twilight sat down, the light in her eyes going out, and her horn fizzling one last time.

The doors suddenly burst into an armada of bubbles, leaving a wide, gaping entrance at the end of the throne room.

The hall outside seemed unusually dark - another courtesy of the lavender unicorn's magic.

"Is th' coas' clea'?" a deep, Glaswegian voice asked, whispering.

"The coast is toast." Twilight whispered back, smiling.

"Okay. We'e all line' up ou' 'ere." the same voice replied "Giv' us ou' intro!"

"Right." Twilight muttered, before turning around, looking at her rulers with pride.

"Your majesties, mares and gentlecolts... I present you... The Other Railway!" she announced, and began to trot forward.

Behind her, bodies began to move in the shadows beyond the door... And soon, one by one, they came in, rolling across the opening left by the crowd (which grew as they saw their size), in rows of three, before stopping, a line of five engines at the front, and five other at the back, and the last three behind them all.

They were large, they were grand.

They were machines that growled deeply, and left small clouds of dirty smoke lingering behind.

Some were long and streamlined, others were short, and boxy.

They rolled forward, on wheels that fit for rails, seemingly in perfect control of their own movement.

They stopped before the princesses.

Bowler on the very left, next to him was Stuck-up, Diesel in the middle, with Spamcan beside him, and 'Arry at the right. In the second row, Bert was behind 'Arry, Derek stood behind Spamcan, Cromwell was parked behind Diesel, and Pip and Emma behind the two snooty diesels. In the last row was Steamie, the Brakefather, and BoZo.

With slight uproars, clanking, or splutter, the sound of the engines died down.

Silence fell among the crowd.

The princesses just stared at the machines in front of them.

Inanimate objects that were alive?

Trains?

It was nothing Celestia had expected, and, it was also on the very edge of her comprehension.

Luna had already knew they would be locomotives. But these looked NOTHING like the trains they had in Equestria! They were squarish and dirty, and carried a very odd smell - not that of coal, grease or smoke, but something more pungent. The crowd itself was completely speechless...

The mares jumped out from the diesels' cabs, walking up to the front, as Alexei materialized as well.

There was a long pause.

Neither sides said a word, they just stared at each other, for what seemed like hours.

The silence grew heavy.

"Well... This is awkward..." Derek muttered, finally breaking the silence. The crowd suddenly turned into a whispering herd, everybody glancing up and down at the machines before their eyes.

The princesses exchanged glances, as the mares began to fidget, feeling the awkwardness sink in further...

Finally, Diesel could take it no more...

"Oh, for the love of..." he muttered, before taking a deep breath, and:

"Greetings, your majesties! And greetings to all those who've come. Allow me to introduce myself: my name is Diesel, and these here are my... Associates... We've came to your world in peace, as the Other Railway. It is an honor to meet you!" he announced. The noise of agreement and good impression came from the crowd, before Diesel added, muttering angrily:

"There! I've cracked the ice, now lets get this bloody thing over with!"

This seemed to work. The princesses snapped out from their daze, and were quick to reply.

"Well, greetings to you, Diesel! Welcome to Equestria! I hope you'll enjoy your stay here, as long as it will be." Celestia replied kindly.

"Much obliged, your majesty. Especially, since it seems we'll be staying here for quite a while... Basically--..."

He was cut off here by Pinkie Pie, who popped out from beside him, doing her trademark, dramatic "ForEVER!".

Everyone, especially Diesel stared at her with an expression of utter disbelief. Then, shaking it off, as she sunk back from wherever she came from, the jet black shunter continued.

"Yes, forever. So, what we'd like to do is to offer our services to you."

Again, whispers filled the crowd.

The Sun Goddess raised an eyebrow.

"What sort of services do you mean?" she asked, curiously.

Diesel sighed, and rolled his eyes, before continuing, a pained expression on his face.

"PLEASE, princess! It's not that hard to tell!" he moaned. Celestia looked unimpressed.

"Still, PLEASE, explain, Diesel." she replied, mimicking the engine's groan.

Diesel sighed again, and shut his eyes for a moment, his forehead filling with wrinkles, before opening his eyes again.

"Your highness..." he began "As you've probably guessed by our appearance, we are machines, those kinds that work on the rails. In fact, we are a type of locomotives - well, most of us - who work in a certain way. We're called "diesel engines". Stuck-up!" he spoke, looking towards the express engine.

"Right." the latter replied, looking at Rarity, who've noticed this.

"Rarity, my dear..." the engine spoke softly "Please, whip out the charts."

"But of course!" the white mare replied, using her magic to levitate a large parchment sheet above the fleet. It showed the chart of a steam engine, a tender engine, to be specific.

"Now THIS..." Stuck-up continued, speaking in an object-lesson manner - Is a steam locomotive...

And the explanation went on for a good hour, the parchment displaying the three different engine types: steam, diesel and electric.

Finally, the express engine wrapped it up:

"Out of the three, steam engines are the oldest, and most durable kind. They can be over-pressurized and could carry on, even with many malfunctions and damages at the same time. Diesels are... A bit more delicate, shall I say, but on the other hand, if well maintained, they cost less money, and are more cleaner and ecologically friendly - that is, I repeat, if WELL maintained. Electric engines are, by far, the most cleanest of the three, and could be even more powerful and fast - it depends on their design. On the other hand, they're bound to their power source. The Other Railway, and the rest of the companies that are present in this world, contain all three types...

"Actually..." Derek spoke up, catching everyone's attention "We're not as much companies as the actual engines and rolling stock themselves. We are - sort of - refugees. We've escaped from our own world because of the horrid treatment and environment we had to endure.

This statement was only partly true, of course, but was reason enough for the crowd to gasp.

"Allow me to explain." Derek added quickly "We're not the sort of refugees you think of - we aren't escaping from a war or anything -, we just simply left our world behind. I did it because I wanted to visit Equestria. My... Chums did it out of concern towards me. And everybody else beside us did it because we did it. Out of spite towards our controller."

There was a long pause.

"Ummm... Could you explain what you meant?" Luna asked.

Derek looked puzzled, then, after mentally reciting his own words, he realized that he was missing out details.

"Allow me, Derek!" Diesel called out to him with a groan - Ms. Sparkle, if you'd please! - and she levitated ANOTHER parchment, showing the silhouette images of three humans, two mans and a woman.

Diesel sneered.

"Everybody makes mistakes. But certain people are mistakes themselves! As we engines say, there are LOTS of gits in our world, but there's three we hate the most."

"Beeching!" barked BoZo.

"Thatcher!" grumbled Spamcan.

"Blair!" spluttered Bowler.

The ponies were astonished by the human faces - such beings were only a myth in Equestria.

"To sum u' ho' we fe'l 'bout 'em..." Spamcan growled, then rev his engine, faster and faster, until fire blasted out from his exhausts, burning away the parchment, leaving both the crowd, the Princesses, and the Mane Six aghast.

"Poin' is, yer Majesty." 'Arry spoke up "We want t' DO sum'hin' 'bou' ou' li'es 'ere in 'questria, so, we offe' ya wha' we can..."

"Yes, your highness." Stuck-up added "Allow US to get YOUR railway... "Back on track"..."

"Indeed." put in Derek "We may NOT been the best workforce back in our own world, but this world is far more different, and, shall I say, far more better than our old..."

"How so?" the Sun Goddess asked, curious again.

The engines all gave an exasperated sigh. Then, after a deep breath, Cromwell spoke up:

"Well, to be quite honest, your Majesty, our world, especially the part were we live and work - or more like avoid work - with each other - or, again, more likely AGAINST each other - is horrid."

"THAT'S an understatement." Bowler added "Our world is as dirty, cruel, and horribly unfair as a world could be, beyond all expectations in sense of malignity, and probably worse than what you, or every being in this country put together can imagine."

"It is filled with hatred and sorrow, littered with junk, mass famine and splodges of war." Stuck-up croaked.

"TRUST us, pri'sess, i's th' LAS' place ya wou'd wan' t' visi'..." Bert muttered.

"Yes, out ALL the bloody parallels and paradoxes, we just HAVE to have the WORST, most insufferable, soddy little..." Diesel paused "But I digress. We can give you more details about our history, later. Point is, your Majesties, the Other Railway and it's associates are at your service, willing to start over in a whole new world."

"And THAT'S exactly what we need!" the Princess of the Night put it, cheerfully. All eyes were on her.

"Equestria's rail transportation system is in a BAD need of fresh air and development." Luna continued happily "How many locomotives are there?"

"Prob'bly 'bou' an 'nti'e regio's worth." Spamcan replied "An', if my mail go' through, dere's mor' t' com'."

"Splendid!" the Moon princess replied, then glanced to the side, and froze, eyes slightly wider. Celestia noticed her astonishment, and proceeded to follow her look, only the end up with the same awestruck expression.

Every eye of the crowd slowly moved from the sight of the engines, and settled on the figure.

Alexei was in a crossfire of looks.

"Who may you be, dear visitor?" Celestia asked, her surprise audible in her voice.

"I'm Alexei. Just... Simply Alexei." the figure replied calmly "Space lord, uh, time-space continuum engineer, and, ah..." he paused here "Ah yeah, God."

"A god?" the Sun Goddess replied, even more dumbfounded.

"Yes, sister... Did I forgot to mention it?" Luna asked, suddenly worried "He's the God of... What was it?"

"Denial." the Traveler replied sharply "God of Denial."

"Aaand what does that title contain?" Celestia asked, sounding concerned as well.

"...Do I have to tell?" Alexei asked, a pained expression appearing on his face.

"If you'd be so kind as to explain..." Luna added, sounding nonchalant "We'd appreciate it..."

"...It's not nice to talk about it..." the figure replied after a short pause, rubbing one arm with the other, before looking up with a serious expression, as he began to explain.

"As the God of Denial, my job is variable. I'm immortal through incredibly long "lives" and regeneration. I'm also the "descendant" of the first time and space fabricator, created by... Well, the Creator, the one who began the Omniverse, all worlds, dimensions, timelines. My job is to take part in the many timelines, and, usually, become the necessary evil. I'm not into the "evil super villain" or "demon extraordinaire" shtick, but it's duty to take it, to provide a contrast to the goodness of a world, sort of a solid point in reality, someone who provides sobriety in the bliss of an Eden - again, that doesn't means that I'M evil. My roles are, but... But..."

He stopped.

The feeling of sorrow seeped out from his voice like how thick, crude oil flows down in the clean water of the ocean, as he continued. He spoke softly:

"I'm... Always... Alone... The family I have... The friends I make... They pass away... Cease to exist... And eventually, even I, a being who exists beyond time, forgets them... In fact, I ONLY exist. I never had a life... Oh I've done many things, I can, without doubt, say that all the work I did, and all the knowledge I harbour... Provides me with the experience WORTHY to begin my own world... Yet... I never did anything right... Even in my mortal lives...

He fell silent again.

Then, came his uproar!

He flailed out with his arms, gesticulating violently, now furious.

"WITHOUT FAIL, every attempt of mine, every time I chose to live a mortal's life, ended up in an experience that proved that my porpuse is as obscure as the Creator itself. I KNOW the Reason of Life! I can see both good and bad, darkness and light, harmony and chaos, order and liberty, YET, MY existence is ALWAYS proven pointless! For wherever I may roam, whatever time I exist in, whichever side I take, it's always the same: I find no REAL evil, but twisted souls, forced to comply the bidding of the ones most insane or certain. No REAL good, as every word of apology, every honest reply, every offer, every share, every submission, every promise, every SENSE of the word "good" is SHALLOW and FAKED! Only applied to avoid consequences one dares not to imagine, no matter how puny they are!

He continued to roar:

"Creation itself becomes tainted, while destruction is praised to no end!"

Then took a deep breath:

"SO WHAT PURPOSE DO I SERVE?! THEY ALL KNEW EVIL BEFORE I EVEN SAW THEM! THEY WERE NONE THE WISER WHEN I LEFT, BUT THEIR WORLD HAD CHANGED FOREVER, FOR THE WORSE! ALL I EVER DID WAS THROW THE FIRST STONE!!!"

The crowd was silent. Never so silent before, aghast at the immense, fierce emotions that now crashed around in the throne room, thrashing around within them - shock and dread, anger, sadness, forced indifference, throe, anguish, and pure terror.

The engines remained quiet, their glances falling from the Traveler, unable to see, hear, think, or feel. Just emptiness.

The words sunk in like corpses into tar.

Princess Celestia was in a trance of some sort. While her physical body still looked focused, her astral body was trying to handle the emotions she had been flooded with. For an immortal being, she still had a soul, and, most importantly, her heart was in place.

Through the long years of her own existence, there was ONE thing she never experienced, never HAD to experience, and that was Fatelessness. Now, her mind was drowned in the vibes of sight, sense and feel the foreign deity had to deal with for so many eons.

Hunted, accursed, tortured, twisted.

She hoped that another being like she and her sister... Or Discord, for that matter, would be a good companion, someone she could relate to, who shared the same pressure and weight she had to endure - now, it seemed that Alexei was more than what she bargained for: if her, or Luna's life was difficult, the God of Denial's must have been a never ending tragedy. Worse still, she could TELL he never grew accustomed to his role, his "job" as such deity.

'Wherever I may roam', he said.

And that's all he did. Roam.

Forever.

The princess became self-aware again, the veil lifted from her mind. She knew what to do, AND she knew it sounded foalish.
But, the first thing she learned from her foalhood was indeed this exact thing.

She'd had to make this step as soon as possible.

For the good of all of them. Alexei's, especially.

Luna, on the other hand, had much more of a mortal soul - to be honest, it was HER that originally made the first contact with the mortal ponies in their foalhood, and used to be the more sociable one - while her sister was distant and snooty. What changed her was all the effort she put in her nights that seemed to have gone wasted, Nightmare Moon, and recently, Discord's return.

However, her mortal soul remained. She never felt compassion so great before. She could only stare at the figure.

Alexei's head hung low, a shadow cast over his eyes, now closed, practically invisible on his deep, dark gray skin.

A few large tears dropped, the sound echoing in the large room like the lonely chime of a silver bell.

When he spoke up, his voice sounded bereft. Tired. Ill.

"My existence is senseless and destructive. Everything I create only causes havoc, stagnation and suffering. Yet, that is what I HAVE to do, my role in my own existence is settled."

He paused his voice became to shaky to continue. He grit his teeth, then continued, hoping his whisper was inaudible.

"Sometimes... Sometimes I wish... I had never existed. For all the pain, all the death, all the deadly lesson I've left behind. I'd deserve it, not existing."

He literally uttered the last sentence:

"Death, even the worst kind, would be far too kind for me."

"'Scuse me, Mr. Alexei, but don't think like that..."

The shaky, squeaky voice broke everyone out from the depression lingering around chest level in the room.

All guests looked up, surprised.

The mares glanced back between the engines, while the Princesses proceeded to do the same, but from above.

In the back row, Steamie had decided to speak up. Still sounding sad, but determined, as he continued.

"You have traveled for long ages on end, but now, if I'm correct, you've finally arrived into a world were everything long before predicted that you simply NEVER expected to happen is coming around, and depends on US engines and THESE mares before you, if I'm citing you right. Surely, the last thing you'll need to worry about is being alone. You're a god, which means you have a role, and there's something ENORMOUS that's going to happen here, so beside your role, you'll be training us all as well. There's plenty of time for you to socialize! So, dry those tears up, mister! You're in the world of Sunshine!"

Alexei looked up, and stared at the green tank engine in utter shock, before he smiled warmly, mares and engines alike returning his smile, happy that the sorrow that gripped their very being had dispersed.

"Which reminds me..." Luna replied "Dear sister, the sun should be setting soon, and the moon shall rise. But anyway, it's a brilliant idea you've proposed, my... Dear... Engines..." the Princess of the Night had recently took up the habit of her sister, speaking motherly to her subjects. It was a rare occasion, though, like when she was showing around school foals in the royal castle. However, the proposed idea from Diesel, and Steamie's interruption of the ailing veil thrown upon them by the other deity's revelation had warmed up her heart - but not that much to get before her common sense.

Calling the machines that parked before her "little" would be an insult, she thought. Calling them ponies would be downright ridiculous.

Fortunately for her, her words were just the ones she needed to get the discussion 'back on track'.

"Well... Then we have a deal then, Princess..." Bowler added.

Celestia froze.

"Deal?" she asked.

"Yes. Deal." Cromwell added, a bit too smugly, before an odd outburst from his rear part, that sounded like a belch, blew a parchment in front of the royal sisters, carrying the heavy smell of sulfur and methane.

Lifting it up via magic, Luna quickly skimmed the contract, while her sister listened to the gas-turbine engine's words.

"In short, if you sing that contract, our mutual agreement is set, which we will fulfill from our side with honest, full-hearted hard labor, doing whatever jobs we're ordered to. Clauses are, A, the jobs cannot be humiliating or excruciating in ways that's beyond the strain and juristic recognition of a locomotive, B, we're provided with safe, seasonally heated or cooled shelter, proper maintenance and supplies, fuel..."

"These would NATURALLY be provided." Celestia replied defiantly, successfully hiding her surprise over the many needs of machines made of metal.

"...And one last thing." Cromwell added, stopping.

Luna had finished with the parchment, and placed it down beside her, also looking up.

"Which would be?" Celestia asked.

"Booze."

Not as much as the word, but the unison in which all the engines present said it had truly surprised everyone.

"Beg your pardon?" Luna asked.

"Our work is, above all routines, hard, and often frustrating in one way or another." Old Stuck-up explained.

"Indeed. Something is ALWAYS bound to go wrong." Pip put in.

"So, for all our hard work, including extra hours, we demand no money as payment, but alcohol to get our minds off the daily races." Emma added.

"And that being a bit MORE than Apple cider." BoZo yelled from the back.

"I'll take care of that!" Alexei promised, attracting everyone's attention again.

"...Right..." the Princess of the Day spoke, slightly unsure now. Then she glanced at her sister, who seemed surprisingly confident. With a reassuring smile, she handed the contract to her. Celestia had her doubts. She looked up. Sure, the machines in front of her were odd, sullen and fairly unlikely to actually mean any good...

But, they were honest enough to admit their faultiness, and the world they came from wasn't exactly a sugar-coated dreamland (neither was Equestria, but that was a matter of perspective). Not to mention that, as the grimy engine explained, there were probably enough trains to go around for AT LEAST this province, which would already be enough to stabilize rail traffic in Equestria, as the country's locomotives could be transferred into other regions... Or something...

She REALLY wasn't into bureaucracy...

"Wha'? Ya serious?" Spamcan suddenly spoke up, glancing backwards at his own cab "Okay. I'll tell 'em."

There was the sound of quick, static crackling, like when you turn off an old radio, then the goods engine turned to the princesses.

"Change o' pla's, yer majesties." he said with a serious tone.

"Is there som'hing wrong?" Applejack asked "What was that, anyway?"

"My transceiver." Spamcan replied "We al' 'ave 'em, ya 'no', fo' saf'ty reasons. Anyways, Vac called. 'paren'ly, Oi mis'al'ula'ed ONE thin'."

"Aaand just WHAT may that be?" Rarity asked with a hint of alarm. Stuck-Up, who had been eavesdropping through his own radio, was quick to explain.

"It seems like..." he spoke carefully "That, APPARENTLY, many engines and rolling stock from MANY other countries around our world heard about our actions, and, conjoined in convoys, heading towards this world, willing to get out of their own lives".

"De'e ar' SUR' lo' o' bronies ou' de'e." Bert muttered, then quickly got a bash from 'Arry "OW!"

"Which means..." Derek took the word "That there will be multiple COUNTRIES worth of engines, coaches and trucks to work with!"

Alexei blinked.

"I'll begin installing the necessary equipment immediately!" he spoke loudly, as if replying to an order "The engines will arrive to well-built railway! Or shall I say, railways?" he asked, glancing at the Princesses, before he disappeared with a zap in mid-step.

The crowd, the engines, the mares, and Spike, witnessed the rare and intriguing sight of two alicorn princess deities having their mouth hung open in surprise.

"How did he know?" Luna muttered limply...

"How did he know... What?" Bowler asked. The princesses looked up, still dumbfounded.

"...That it's not only Equestria which needed an upgrade in it's transport system?"

By the next morning, things were all arranged.

Engines, passenger and freight wagons and any self-aware auxiliary equipment kept coming from planet Earth, relentlessly, without any sign of stopping.

Alexei was true to his word - the railways themselves were ready for the wave of new machines, and every country, every province was warned. He arranged the various kinds and types per individual railways - some even got to Eagleland.

Meanwhile, the Royal sisters had held what was the greatest congress in years, discussing the many options at hand - both engines and God left many plans and drafts to "economize" the newly found railways.

In all cases, it started with the withdrawal of the original fleet, and ended with the simple phrase, "Profit!".

Soon enough, everything was in moderate order, in fact, most countries had already began to operate their renewed railways.

In the Canterlot province, not far from the small, humble town of Ponyville, a marshalling yard had been pulled up.

Now most it's shed's berths were filled, it's occupants parked in the open doorways, resting as the sun slowly ascended above the horizon. Six mares sat at their buffers, watching the sunrise as long as their eyes bared the light.

As the dew slowly dried up, a conversation began between them.

"Such a lovely view." Derek commented "Better than our own sunrises, if I may say so."

"Hmph. Well, just what DO you expect from a DEITY'S sunrise, Derek?" Diesel grumbled back.

"Speaking of which, that Alex guy did a wonderful job with the rails!" Bowler added.

"Yes, they're even more comfortable than that of the rail generator's rails." Stuck-up added "I didn't thought that was possible."

"AHEM!" Diesel snapped "Again, we're talking about a GOD'S handy work! What else did you expect?!"

"I guess you enjoy it." Twilight spoke up, mirthfully. The shunter just rolled his eyes.

Doctor Whooves walked up to them.

"I have news." he spoke.

"Ou' wi'h it, doc." Spamcan replied with ease "Wha's goin' on?"

The Doctor cleared his throat.

"Under the direct orders of her majesties, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, and their recently employed Regal Adviser, locomotive number D8, number 40125, 'Sir Alaric E. Electric', number D261, 'Green Liner', number D199, number D8717, 'Paxman', Industrial units 'A' and 'B', HST units number 43200 and 43201, prototype unit GT4, remotorized vintage Class 21, number D6158, S-D prototype unit BZ, Hunslet Austerity 0-6-0ST, unnumbered locomotive, "Steamie", will be based in the Ponyville Engine Depots, to maintain local and regional freight and passenger service between Canterlot, Trottingham, Manehattan, Appleloosa, Forest Green, and any industrial and agricultural sites within the region."

The brown earth pony took a deep breath, as the others slowly comprehended the news.

"Da' mea's STEAMIE will be wor'in' wi'h us!" - Spamcan growled.

"YAY!" the latter named cheered, as the others groaned and rolled their eyes.

"Other engines located here will be number D701, number D1043, 'Western Pathfinder', number D782, number 31120, number D5720." the Doctor continued.

Twilight looked puzzled.

"Strange..." she muttered "I swear I've heard those numbers before. And also, "Western Pathfinder"? That sounds oddly familiar..."

"Of course it does!" Pinkie replied, cheerily "D701 is Rhodders, D1043, or Western Pathfinder is Matthias, D782 is Brock, 31120 is Vac..." she paused here, looking puzzled herself - But I don't know who D5720 is... I can't remember seeing his number...

"Tha's CoBo." Bert answered, before jeering "A' leas', SUM'ONE will be doin' SUM' wor' 'ere."

The other engines agreed.Spike showed up, running up to the sheds.

"Twilight! Twilight!" he cried, flailing his arm.

"Good morning, Spike!" the unicorn called out to him "Slept well?"

"I did!" he replied with a hint of annoyance "Until the Princess woke me up! Look!"

And he handed over a parchment.

"Wha's in i'?" Bert asked.

Twilight cleared her throat, and began to read:

'My dear, faithful student,

After consulting with my sister and Alexei, who's new "role" is to be my Regal Advisor, we've managed to set up the new rail system which we've christened "Equestrian Rail", in respect, and as a legacy of the engines' old workplace. Diesel and the others are now based at the Ponyville Marshalling Yard, where they will perform their new duties.

However, they're not the only ones with new tasks.

Since Equestrian Rail is now in bad need of more trained employees, I'd like to ask you and your friends, including Spike, to report to railmare duty at the local engine sheds, if possible, weekly. Doctor Whooves had taken the responsibility of being the Yard's manager, he'll be giving out your jobs, with Ditzy Doo as his assistant and secretary. Naturally, of course, new engineer-, and workpony training schools and faculties have been opened for the new engines and rolling stock - if I wrote that correctly - but until the railways reaches a satisfying number of employees, we'll have to take slightly drastic measures - thus, the railway is offering free training and payed jobs for university-age mares and colts.

Your case, however, is slightly different.

As Alexei had told you, you and your friends are NOT ONLY the Elements of Harmony, but also, the Elements of Defiance, with your faith apparently sealed to some extent. I would intervene with such fatal circumstances, but these forces are beyond me, I know nothing about them, and Alexei can't help it, either.

But you're not alone in this task: you have your friends, and most importantly, you have your counters, the Elements of Hatred, among the Other Railway engines.

What I really ask you is to try and befriend the engines along with your friends - as your and their elements are capable, and will work together at some crucial point in time - and it's always easier to work with friends than with enemies!

In fact, this may even help you with your studies of friendship - I'm pretty sure the diesels have a worldly experience of companionship, even if not the friendly type.

Also, I'd strongly suggest it to the engines that they KEEP their side of the contract - unless, as Alexei put it, they wish to become paper weight.

And again, naturally, you DON'T. HAVE. To report. What you've learnt about railmareship, especially not weekly - because I haven't the slightest idea about rail industry. Honestly. Don't bother yourself unnecessarily.

Your faithful teacher and friend,
Princess Celestia.

After Twilight finished, the ponies and the engines exchanged surprised looks.

"Well... That settles it, then..." Derek declared calmly.

"WHAT?! RAILMARESHIP?!" Rainbow spluttered "I DON'T HAVE the time to check tickets on a platform! I need to practice! And I have my own job..." she added quickly.

"AHEM!" Applejack snapped "Ya spend most of your time snoozing somewhere! And besides, ya'll only have to do it ONCE a week. No' even EV'RY week if ya can't do it!"

"And, it would be a nice change of pace." Fluttershy added quietly.

"Not to mention that you'll LEARN something that can help you later, for example, if - Celestia forbid! - you wouldn't be able to fly anymore!"

Rainbow's eyes went wide. The Iron twins snickered.

"She's no' wrong, ya 'no'." 'Arry chuckled.

"Also, Applejack always claims that I don't REALLY do real work." Rarity put in. The others WERE surprised, and all glanced at Applejack, who nervously looked around.

"I understand what she means, though. Farming is much more... Physical than making dresses." Rarity added "But being a railmare is different! I believe both precision, routine, and sheer power is required."

"Well, that depends, but you're not wrong." Stuck-up spoke up. Rarity smiled, before casting a content smirk towards the earth pony.

"NOW I'll show you who's hard working, Applejack!"

In response, the orange pony just scratched her head under her hat.

"Gee, Rarity. There's no need for a competition, but I'm glad ya put yerself down into heavy work like this." she smiled before pondering "Also, the Docter said that the engines will help out in any industrial and AGR'CULTURAL sites in the region. And the closest one is Sweet Apple Acres! Hot-diggedy! Applebloom was right!" she cheered.

"WEE! This'll be LOADS of fun!" Pinkie cheered, bouncing around, before she was interrupted by Diesel's sneer.

"Oh-ho-ho! Now hold on! Don't think working on the railway is jolly little party, Pink! It's hard work, with lots of pressure and tediousness! Think you have to guts for it, twerp?!"

Pinkie stopped bouncing, and sat down, pondering. But soon, she rose up, nice and calm, and replied to the jet black engine as so:

"That may, Diesel, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy it." she declared, before continuing, cheerily "A bit of maturing won't hurt, anyway."

And she trotted off towards Steamie and BoZo, quickly switching back into bouncing, eyes closed with a content smile on her face, while the others just stared at her, mouth agape.

After recovering, Diesel spoke up again:

"Guess we'll be seeing each other more then..."

"Seems so..." Spike replied "ut what are we gonna do? I mean, you're not even MADE for ponies!"

"That may be..." Stuck-Up replied thoughtfully "But that doesn't means you shouldn't try. For that, and for the good of this new railway, I shall offer MY cab as your sanctuary to study - in other words, your workplace."

The other engines were stunned.

"Gosh..." Emma muttered "That's pretty generous of you, Stuck-up..."

The express engine smiled.

"Weeell, we all have our weak moments, don't we?"

The others chuckled and agreed.

In Canterlot, the guard mount has finally finished, and Princess Luna was getting ready to rest. Before she went to get her Royal Slumber, she checked on her sister - yesternight had been very busy.

"Well, I'm off now. Day-day, Tia!" she spoke, popping her head into the bedroom. She was about to leave, when she noticed that her sister was sitting on the balcony.

And she wasn't alone!

"What are you two doing out here?" she asked, walking out towards the railing.

Alexei looked up, taking his eyes of the landscape.

"Examining our empire." he replied with a smirk.

"Oh?" Luna asked, bemused "OUR empire?"

She huffed.

"As far as I'm concerned, you're NOT co-ruling the country, NOR you are part of the Royal family." she narrowed her eyes at her sister "Isn't that RIGHT, Tiaaa?"

The elder princess chuckled.

"I don't know what you're talking about." she replied "But actually, this IS partly his empire."

"How so?" the Princess of the Night asked, curious all of a sudden.

"Well..." the figure replied with a grin "I'm in control of the railways. Head Director. You might as well call me the Flat Controller."

The Royal sister both had to stifle a snort of laughter.

"W-Why "flat"?" Luna asked, trying hard not to giggle.

"Well, there's this guy whom his engines call the "Fat Controller", cause he IS. And the the current controller of the Other Railway, back in their world, is called Sir Wyatt Fronts - but his engines call him the Thin Git, for obvious reasons."

"Is he that bad?" Celestia asked, amused. Alexei looked glum.

"That grubby weasel-of-a-man would sell his own mother for a bottle of Scotch. He's one of the biggest reasons why the engines are such miserable sods!" he muttered loudly.

"You still haven't answered my question." Luna snickered "HOW is this YOUR empire?"

Alexei smirked once more.

"Look around, and tell me what you see."

Luna proceed so.

The scenery, as usually, was beautiful, even with the added, snaky lines of the many railway tracks - in fact, there were a LOT of them, all across the landscape!

She just stared, mesmerized by the sight - only now did she noticed it: the rails had gave a completely new face to the land.
"These tracks run through the country like blood vessels." Alexei spoke softly "Soon, private companies will begin to rely on it to deliver their freight, and passengers will be drawn to it by the new equipment. All I have to do is keep it ship-shaped and orderly."

His grin grew vicious.

"The economy will be dependent on the rails, and fuel it's profit, so the railways would stay open. And the circle encloses..."

By now, both alicorns had been staring at him with concerned looks, unsure of what to say. The other deity simply turned back to the view, his eyes landing on Ponyville, so tiny in the distance, with the new yard not far from it.

Nictating his eyes, the God could even make out the engines in the shed.

"Yes." he spoke, his voice growing lighter "My little railway."

The princesses exhaled, the moment of insanity had passed.

"Yes..." Celestia agreed. "The Other Railway."

"And our dear subjects are working on it right now." Luna put in.

"Does that makes them "The Other Ponies"?" Alexei asked, jokingly.

The princesses didn't reply. They just chuckled.

Episode 1 - Twilight's First Day

TWILIGHT'S FIRST DAY

It was a pleasant, if chilly morning in Equestria.

The sun had just came up, the early birds were chirping...

Aaaaand...

Ummm....

Oh!

The railway's daily shift came into action.

And in the Canterlot Province, the heart of the Equestrian Kingdom (Equestria ISN'T the planet's name, silly!), not far from the capital, Canterlot itself, a small town was waking up.

It was Ponyville, a humble village where most residents knew each other, and lived happily, away from the bustling cities and the barren wastelands. Lately, this town had also received the honor (and responsibility) of being selected as the province's main transfer yard - many trains passed through here, and the speedway lines set up a bit further from the yard and the station, provided extra safety for the fast runs that didn't stop at Ponyville Station.

The marshaling yard itself had two sheds: a smaller one, which was more like a remise, with ten sidings, and a transfer table, and a bigger one with fifteen sidings and an electric turntable.

The latter one was massive and block shaped, Soviet-era style (or shall I say, Council-era style), and had a second level which loomed over seven sidings on one side - the engineers' living quarters and leisure room was located here.

In the rightmost side, a small locomotive was snoozing, a discontent moppet on his mouth and a slight frown over his closed eyes, though barely noticeable - especially since most people would've focused on his hideous, pointy nose and winsomely snaky eyebrows.

He was diesel engine, a shunter, to be precise. He had six small wheels, with shiny, stainless steel tires and traction rods, a short, stumpy cab, a short, stumpy body, and a short, stumpy temper.

As the first rays of the sun illuminated his berth through the ground glass windows, the engine woke up, feeling sullen, as usual.

Snorting, he opened one eye, and glanced around, sniffing...

Looking nonchalant and with a hint of superiority, he opened both eyes, and waited.

Soon enough a workcolt arrived, opening the shed's double doors, light filling the dim siding.

"Good morning there, Diesel!" he said, cheerily. Diesel just rolled his eyes.

"What's SOOO good about it?" he asked, although he had to admit the cool, morning breeze, moist with dew, was a nice change compared to the frowzy air of the shed, swirling around his wheels as it poured in in gusts.

The pony quickly climbed into his cab, sweeping off the dust from the control cubicle.

"It's a special day today!"

"Why? Are we making a gig for handicapped children?" the shunter asked back, amused, before correcting himself "I mean, handicapped foals?"

"Noooo..." the colt replied "Nothing like that..."

Diesel sniffed again.

"Then... What is it?" he huffed, suspiciously. His driver-of-the-day didn't reply. He just smirked, and started the engine.

The shunter's motor quickly roared to life, and was soon purring (or more like rumbling) smoothly - not much of a surprise, as he was kept under PROPER conditions.

Slowly, Diesel rolled out from his berth, down the the sloped rails, down the short, concrete covered ground towards the turntable's well. With a quiet whir, the table turned to his siding, enabling him to roll onto it.

He was surprised to see that instead of turning to the right, towards the yard, he was turned to the left, which led to the observing tracks and the fuel depot.

"What's going on?" he asked, now curious. His driver still didn't reply, just urged him forward. Reluctantly, Diesel obeyed, but his eyes were now darting around suspiciously, a pronounced frown on his face.

He was stopped on the middle of the outer track, where his driver turned off his motor.

The diesel engine glanced around.

The sky was clear, aside from a few clouds in the distance...

The birds were chirping, and the crickets were chirping as well, in the high grass of the meadow outside the yard's stone fence. Diesel could easily see over the fence, as it was at the bottom of the tracks' high embankment.

His driver had left without a word, leaving him to wonder.

In the distance, he could see the colorful houses of the town.

THEN he remembered.

"Hurry up, Spike! we're going to be late!" Twilight called out to the dragon. She herself was packing her saddlebags for the day - sandwiches, a thermos, and some fake gemstones she got from Rarity the other day ("ZIRCONIUM?! The NERVE of that salesmare!!! Why, I oughta...!").

The lavender pony chuckled inwardly at the memory, before closing the bags, and tossing them over her back.

"Comin'!" Spike replied from the other room. He soon entered with a backpack.

"You packed in everything in, right?" Twilight asked. The baby dragon thought for a moment.

"Quills, parchment, notebooks, ink, History Records of Equestrian Railways, aaaaand repeat all, 'cept for the book. Check." Spike responded, counting the object on his fingers "I guess we're ready."

"Right." the purple unicorn smiled back "Let's go."

On their way through town, they met no-one, and in fact, saw no-one. So early in the morning, Ponyville was like ghost town. Tranquil, but creepy in a way. As if time had stopped. In fact, after some time, Twilight began to expect to come across overgrown ruins the next corner. Spike, on the other hand, was anxious, and tried to cover it with questions.

"S-So... What are we going to do?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know. I hope I'll get to work as an administrator, or, if anything, a ticket cashier." his friend replied, before chuckling "And you could be a ticket inspector!"

"I'll pass..." Spike groaned "Anyways, what about the others?"

Twilight pondered.

"The Apples are busy, Applejack said they're behind schedule. Fluttershy has to take care of a wile argument between foxes and wolves..."

"Don't wanna be in HER place..." Spike hissed, wincing at the thought of being in such predicament...

"Rarity is on a day-out with her family... And Rainbow Dash had to go to a Weather Council meeting at Cloudsdale. It's about that accident with the refinery."

"I should have guessed..." Spike mumbled "This licenta stuff sure is dangerous, huh?"

"It is." Twilight replied, before adding it sharply "Licenta radiation holds potential dangers, IF handled the WRONG way. What happened was an unfortunate incident."

Spike had his doubts.

"Yeah, so was Chernobull, Severesk with Trotsk-7, Haresburg with Three-Mares Island, Spellafield, Packs, and... Oh! Who could forget Heroshima, or shall I say, Bukushima?" he asked murkily. Twilight grunted, and picked up pace, as her assistant continued "Face, it, Twilight, licenta is dangerous, and ponies have always struggled to keep control of it."

"And you think that ridding the world of rainbows and lightning power is the ultimate solution, do you?!" Twilight snapped, loud enough for anyone to hear. Spike looked around nervously.

"Shh!" he hushed her "There's no need to get yourself worked up about it!"

"I'm NOT getting myself worked up about it!" Twilight responded angrily, but with a quieter voice "I'm getting worked up about YOUR stupidity!"

"What?" Spike had taken aback.

"You listen to all that crud those spectraphobiac gangs and their sponsors say, when one of your friends is RAINBOW DASH?! She had been having sleepless nights over the arguments and stress caused by with those vicious cloppers!"

"Whoa!" Spike exclaimed. He rarely saw Twilight this angry, and had never expected her to get vulgar.

"All those ignorant, hectic buckers think about is 'OOOOH, ANOTHER LEAK, WE SHOULD TOTALLY BAN REFINING RAINBOWS, AND THEN ARGUE ABOUT GRAY SKIES! WHAT, SOME SCIENTIST AND EXPERTS DARE TO CLAIM WE'RE NOT RIGHT? LET'S SUE THE BUCK OUT OF THEM!'" that, by far, was the best "annoying bimbo witch" and "snooty old nag" impression Spike had ever heard. He now listened with interest, as the mare continued her rant.

"Ponies know NOTHING about the conditions and nature of these accidents! And if you TRY to explain it to them, it's like talking to a stone wall! Chernobull was due by equine omission and the skipping of regulations, and Bukushima had to suffer the strongest earthquake recorded yet, AND a tsunami before the meltdown! And, for the last time, Heroshima was a blooming MILITARY ATTACK, NOT an ACCIDENT!" the unicorn bellowed "THERE IS A MOHTERBUCKING DIFFERENCE, YOU KNOW!"

"Woah, take it easy, Twilight!" Spike replied soothingly. The mare took a deep breath.

"Alright." she mutterd crossly "But c'mon! Don't you think it's a bit suspicious that most of the groups are from Phillydelphia?" she asked "'Cause, for your information, it's exactly 'Delphia that had been pushing the idea of licenta used for military purposes, rather than civilian ones. Their contribution helped the Manehattan Project the most."

"Twilight, that's manure, and YOU should know that!" Spike snapped back "All these conspiracy theories are made up in response to their claims. At LEAST, you didn't went as far to compare them to the Nasys..." he added.

Twilight huffed.

"I would never DO such a thing, and besides...!" she groaned, before adding, more delicately "You know what I think of nationalism..."

"'It's the springboard to supremacism to colts and mares who are in doubt about their ponyhood.'" Spike cited with bore "I KNOW! And I agree with it, so to speak. But you can't just ignore their opinion! It would make you just as bad, if not worse, than them!"

His friend sighed.

"I guess your right. But still..." she muttered, her voice dropping into an ominous whisper "I swear by Star Swirl's beard, if I ever, EVER come across one of those motherbuckers, I'll..."

"Before you continue that..." Spike interrupted on a disinterested tone "I might as well tell you that Fluttershy is an active anti-licenta supporter."

Twilight's face fell.

"And Rainbow had agreed with her." Spike added "They understand each other's point of view, and they tried to come up with solutions in the discussions." the dragon scratched his head "Buuut, the other participants usually don't really work together well."

The mare gave an exasperated sight.

"Let's get to work." she muttered, glumly.

They soon arrived at to the yard, and went straight to the main shed, where the Doctor was waiting for them.

"Good morning, Twilight! Morning, Spike!" he greeted them "Ready for your first day at the railway?"

"Sure!" Twilight replied cheerily, despite her spleenful mood "What'll be my job?"

"Follow me." the Time Lord replied, and trotted off. But to Twilight's surprise, to the other direction - he wasn't going towards the station's office - he was heading to the sidings!

Surprised, Twilight and Spike followed him, all the way to the outermost siding. From the distance, she could already figure out why.

Diesel was resting on the siding, his cab towards them. The workmares did wonders to his appearance - his buffer plates were bright red as they were supposed to be, with buffers painted dull black, making them look good as new. His overall paintjob, originally spotty, faded with a tint of brown added to it, probably due to the quality (and consequently, the price) of the paint, was now replaced by a proper jet black coat - even his wheels and chassis had been repainted. His silver gray tires and traction rods shone brightly, his windows cleaned, and his footplate spotless. Twilight could only marvel at the sight.

The Doctor interrupted her gaze.

"Well, here we are."

"What?" the mare asked back, bemused.

"Here we are." the Doctor repeated "Your first job."

"My... First... Job?" she asked slowly, eyes darting around, before they landed on Diesel.

"Yes." Dr. Whooves replied "Through your training and hopefully afterwards, you'll be Diesel's driver. Now, he's a shunting engine, which means your jobs will mostly consist of arranging trains, and short-distance slow goods. You may also be doing maintenance on him if fitters aren't available."

"Wait..." Twilight's eyes went wide "I'll be... A driver?"

"No need for this, then!" Spike grinned, and hurled the heavy bag away into the distance. Twilight was getting nervous.

"But... I don't know how to drive at all, let alone an engine!" she whimpered, before asking, hopefully "Do I at least get an instruction manual?"

"Nope." the brown earth pony replied "It'll have to be a first-hoof experience, but don't worry. Diesel will be there to help you!"

"But... But..." Twilight was getting closer to panic.

"As for you, Spike." the Doctor continued, turning to the dragon "You'll be a full time fitter. Your job will be to maintain the engines based here. For you, I do have blueprints and manuals, and I hope you'll study them well."

"C-Can't we switch jobs?" the mare asked, practically begging.

"What, you want ME to deal with that Grease Block?" Spike retorted, mordantly "As if!"

The Doctor and the dragon left, still discussing Spike's duty, leaving Twilight behind. She slumped onto her flank, pouting.

"You finished yet?" a moderately deep voice grumbled "Work's not gonna do itself, and I can't move by myself ALL the time, as I detailed to you back in the first night!"

Twilight cringed at the memory.

She then got up, with a determined face, turned around and trotted towards the engine, up to the front,

"Good morning, Diesel!" she greeted him happily.

"Oh, so you're NOT afraid of me?" Diesel replied nonchalantly, his face in the same glum expression Twilight had seen the most so far.

"No..." she replied, admitting, embarrassed "I was afraid of the task, because I don't know how to drive an engine."

Diesel rolled his eyes, before he spoke, his frown softening slightly.

"Well, the best way now is for you to try it." he spoke "I have many decades of experience behind me, which also comes with some expertise in certain areas of rail work."

He looked down thoughtfully, at the mare before him. He then closed his eyes, and with slight "whatever" grimace and a "Hmph!", he talked to her.

"Alright then. First thing first, as my driver..." he began "You're in charge of whatever work I do. You control me, essentially, you drive me."

The unicorn only nodded.

"First thing first would be that you check over me to see if the fitter had left out anything, but I doubt that's the case. I've already had a check-up this morning, and everything's fine." he explained "But, if you wish, you can take a quick look around..."

And Twilight proceeded so.

She climbed up to Diesel's ladder, onto his roof, and walked around on top, checking the exhausts. Then, she climbed under him, examining the axles, brakes and gearing. She knew nothing about diesel engines, but the explanation Old Stuck-Up gave to the princesses on their first meeting, she was sure that she was looking at the right things.

After a thorough examination, she found her way into Diesel's cab.

The control cubicle was in front of her. It was a simple set, easily manageable from each sides of it.

"Right." she heard Diesel's voice as if he was inside the cab as well. Dismissing the idea of a "Dieselception", she figured that since she's basically inside the engine, his voice was just as easy to hear as standing outside, in front of him. She was also sure he could hear her. So...

"What now?"

"First of all, turn my motor on." Diesel replied "Search for a button with a sign that reads "Engine Start-Off"."

The mare proceeded so, and soon found it. Pressing it - which turned out to be hard, as the button had a metal rim, and only it's plastic inside moved - she was startled by the loud noise of Diesel's engine clanking to life, before it turned into a mixture of purring and rattling.

"OK." Diesel responded "Now, do you see the control handle?" he asked.

"Yes. TWO of it." came the reply.

"Right. You may see another, vertical handle not far from it. That' are the brakes' control. Put one... Hoof over that lever, and the other to the control handle. Release the brakes, and then slowly turn the handle to a forward motion. Directions are highlighted on the panel."

After catching everything the shunter said, Twilight did exactly as he told her. Carefully, she pulled the vertical lever, jumping as she heard the shrill sound of the air brakes releasing.

Diesel purred comfortably.

"Easy now, Sparkle." he spoke in a reassuring way "Now. Slowly turn the control handle forwards, and keep an eye out on the track through the windows. You can see through them, right?"

Twilight's chair - the very chair she slept on a few days before - was close and high enough for her to see through the right oblong window. She chose this side so that she could keep an eye on the other sidings as well.

Shakily, she put her hoof on the handle, and slowly turned it, the degree of the turn growing and growing. The control handle was a horizontal one that turned to the side, that would of probably went around in a circle, if the gearing would allowed it.

Getting a firm grip on it, Twilight stopped. Diesel was yet to move.

"C'mon, Twilight." she heard his voice "It's not that hard. Just do it."

She was momentarily surprised. Diesel's voice was gentle, almost brotherly, and this was unarguably the first time he ever called her Twilight.

A determined look, not different from the one she had on earlier, returned to her face.

"C'mon, Twilight! You can do this!" she reassured herself, and gentle but firm, she turned the handle to quarter level.
Very slowly, the shunter began to move. Twilight held her breath. Diesel accelerated, slowly gaining speed, before he came to a constant, slow pace, rolling down the line.

Twilight squealed.

"I did it!"

"Now, don't cheer so early!" Diesel replied "You got me moving. Fine. How do you stop me?"

The mare didn't replied. For a moment, she felt another panic attack approaching. Then, after taking a deep breath, she looked around. The controls were simple enough. Carefully, she pulled the handle back, and pushed the lever into it's original upright position. Diesel slowed down, and stopped with a pneumatic hiss, engine rattling quietly.

"...Adequate." he spoke up after some time, his normal, indifferent and superiority-tinted voice returning "Can you do it backwards?"

"Backwards?" the mare blinked.

"Yes." Diesel replied mordantly "Us engines could only go back and forth on the rails. Move me backwards."

Twilight though for a moment, then slowly, she turned the control handle to the other direction, and to her surprise, it could move that way easily.

After a few runs back and forth, trying out the different speeds and methods of braking, she felt much more at ease, feeling her control over the engine. But she wasn't alone.

Diesel had been with her, aiding her through the session. He would always give her advise in the right time, but in a voice that made it sound like a rude remark.

- "Guess that's how he does it..." - she pondered, as they finally left the training siding, and were approaching the fuel depot.

Stopping beside the tanks, she followed her mentor's order and turned his engine off, took the cap from his fuel tank, and placed the hose in it.

"It's VERY important that you ALWAYS turn the motor off before refueling." the jet black engine spoke "One of my... Drinking friend's driver forgot this once..." his voice turned glum "They're no longer with us..."

Twilight let out a quiet gasp. But said nothing.

Somehow, she felt it was best not to say anything, as the shunter seemed deep in thought, embracing the memory.

A while later, they arrived at the sidings. It was a slow day, and only a few trains have been stopping there, most of them just quickly passing through. The coaches have been arranged, and the only thing left to clear were the sidings were the "home" trucks were stored. But boy, was THAT a mess!

The trucks had been scattered all over the sidings, in odd and even numbers, various kinds and types mixed. They were all chatting with each other, not having the slightest care in the world, as Diesel rumbled into the yard.

They all noticed him, however, but didn't seem to care much.

"Twilight. Horn." Diesel spoke simply. Twilight reached out to a hanging strap, and gave it a thug.

Diesel's infamous electric horn buzzed through the air.

The trucks paid NO notice at all.

"Right." the shunter muttered, eyes narrowing "Twilight. OTHER horn."

The mare now reached out to a sprung crank attached to a pipe running through the control panel, up to the ceiling of the cab.

Diesel's secondary, air-operated horn blared loudly, making the trucks all jump and bump into each other.

Most Other Railway diesels had two horn: one, quieter, for urban areas, and a louder one for the yards and for foggy weather.

Twilight honked the latter, which even made she herself jump up in her seat.

"Steady now." the engine called to her, before speaking to the trucks "Alright you lot! Listen up! I have a trainee driver with me, and I want her to LEARN to SHUNT, and not what an obnoxious bunch of pricks you are! So, behave yourself, or I'll take you to the demolition derby!" he yelled.

The trucks winced, but kept whispering to each other, as Diesel, surprisingly carefully and gently, shunted them to their place, arranging two trains, and putting the rest in their assigned sidings, his work contradicting his mood.

Soon enough, the work was done, and the two decided to take a rest at carriage works, located near the sheds. Diesel never like to stop on curved tracks, it always felt constricting to him in a way, but then again, who cared?

Twilight was sitting on his footplate, resting her head against the cool metal of the ladders that ran up to his roof.

"So, how was I?" she suddenly asked.

Diesel thought for a moment.

"Good." he admitted "Especially if you consider that it's only been your first day. You could handle driving in either directions with ease, and dealt with one of the most sloppiest truck in the bunch." he grinned here "And THAT was a heart-warming sight to see."

Twilight blushed at the memory.

One of the trucks had been giving hard time to her and Diesel, jamming it's brakes hard on, and getting stuck on a set of points. Twilight, loosing patience after some time, trying to release the brakes of the stubborn truck, whacked him on the top of his side where his face was located, and instantly, the truck's brakes released, said rolling stock whimpering painfully. Twilight apologized, but Diesel just jeered.

"If you say so, Diesel" she replied.

They sat there, soaking up the sunlight, and enjoying the slight breeze brushing against their fur and metal, when Twilight heard the most queerest sound...

...sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew.... wheeeeeeeeeeesheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehw...

"What's that?" she asked, wondering.

"What's what?" Diesel asked back, nonchalantly.

...sheeeeeeeeeewheeeeeeeeesheeeeeeeeeee... Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...

"That, that noise! It sounds like... It sounds like someone's trying to speak through a whistle..."

"A whistle? "

..sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesh...

"Yeah! Didn't you just heard it?"

"Wait..." Diesel's eyes went wide.

"What is it?" Twilight asked, but her eyes went wide as well, her pupils shrinking to pinprick size, as the noise got louder and louder, AND LOUDER...

...SheeeeeeeeeweeeEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE--!!!

- OH FUCK!

The next second, something green, incredibly fast and blurred passed by the two, sliding down the siding next to them, crashing into the buffers at the end.

Badly shaken from the crash, the two didn't budge, with Diesel's eyes shut tight in a frown, still ready for the impact that never happened, and with Twilight gripping onto his ladder, clinging to it for her dear life.

Slowly, the two opened their eyes, and Twilight glanced back.

And the end of the siding, a large cloud of steam was dispersing.

Quickly, the purple unicorn drove the black shunter to the buffers at the end of their siding. The steam had cleared off, revealing a fluorescent green tank engine, with his eyes still rolling in a synchronized manner with a gurn on his face. The buffers behind him were damaged: The beams were bent, the plate looked close to breaking, and the metal frame holding it bent back. Thankfully, the locomotive was still on the rails, wheeshing steam from his internal cylinders.

Twilight jumped out of the cab, frantic about the situation, but Diesel just groaned, rolling his eyes with annoyance.

"Steamie!" he snapped at the engine "What the Hell?!"

"Are you alright?" Twilight asked, anxious.

After coughing a bit, Steamie replied in his normal, cheery tone, through slightly disoriented:

"I'm fine! I think..."

"Me too!" said a familiar voice.

"What the... PINKIE?!" Both mare and diesel cried out in unison, as Pinkie Pie climbed out from Steamie's cab, wearing an orange high-visibility vest, lurching towards them groggily, eyes rolling in separate directions.

"OH MY GOODNESS!!!" Twilight screamed "Are you alright?!"

Pinkie just chuckled, shaking her head.

"I'm fine!" she replied "Just had to test something..."

"Test?! What are you talkin--?!" Before Twilight could finish her sentence, Pinkie Pie's vest exploded with a loud hiss, expanding... Much like an air-bag.

The impact hurled Twilight into the side of Diesel, making the locomotive shake and jitter on his wheels. Slowly, the purple pony slipped down his side, still plastered on it, while Diesel blinked rapidly to stop his eyes from shaking.

"Hmmm... Air-vest is a bit delayed..." Pinkie Pie mutter d, her voice muffled under the vest, before it deflated, akin to a balloon. She shrugged, and smiled brightly "But, that's what are these tests are for!"

She then noticed Twilight.

"Ummm... Twilight... You alright? Twilight?"

"Eeeh... I think she's unconscious, Pinkie..."

"Nonsense, Steamie! She can't be... Wait... SHE IS!"

"Good to know... Now... Would you be a goooood friend, and BLOODY HELP HER, YOU STUPID TWIT?!" Diesel roared.

"AAAAAAH! YESYESYESYES! RIGHT AWAY, DIESEL, SIR!" Pinkie screamed with fear, as she ran of.

One trip to the first-aid room later, Diesel was waiting at a siding with Steamie and Pinkie beside him.

Twilight came up to them, a bandage covering her head.

"Sorry about that, Ms. Sparkle..." Steamie began.

"Yes. Forgive me, Twilight, I didn't mean to..." Pinkie began, but the unicorn waved her hoof dismissively.

"Never mind that, Pinkie, it wasn't your fault."

"Well..." Diesel muttered "Good to see you're still in one piece."

The mare just chuckled.

"Anyways, Doctor Whooves told me about our duties for the afternoon." Twilight informed them "Pinkie, you and Steamie will have to arrange a freight train for D199. That's Spamcan, right?" she asked the engines.

"Indeed." Diesel replied, before muttering to himself "Steamie, shunting. Those poor, unfortunate trucks..."

"What?" Pinkie asked.

"Nothing!" came the hasty reply.

"Anyways..." Twilight continued "Diesel and I are going to shunt D261's... What was his name? BOWLER! Yes, we're going to shunt Bowler's passenger train, and then, we'll take a slow goods train to the mines at Pyker's Peak... Hmmm... Never heard of those..."

"It's a recently opened coal mine." Pinkie explained. "I know because I've been helping with the opening party!" she added, cheerfully.

"Good." Diesel responded sharply "But just tell me, WHAT the HIGH HELL were you thinking, running into a buffer stop like that?"

"It's... It's fitters orders..." Steamie whimpered, his eyes tearing up.

"Yeah..." Pinkie added, looking sad as well, before she exclaimed "He's such a nice colt! He instructed me how to drive Steamie, how to shunt, how to obey Rule 55, how to DISobey Rule 34, and... Well... The air-vest was his idea... And he'd done so much for me, just this morning. And... I couldn't just disagree with those caring-like eyes, I..." Pinkie stopped.

Twilight Sparkle and Devious Diesel had been staring at her for the longest time, with a mischievous expression, with Diesel's being a bit more nefarious, naturally. A content and knowing smile on their mouths, they just watched her. Even Steamie was giggling!

"Pinkiiiieee..." Twilight cooed "Do you LIKE that colt?"

"Y-Yes..." Pinkie replied, smiling nervously "I mean no! I mean..."

"Hmhmhmmm..." Diesel chuckled in an oily voice "Well... Guess love really IS for everyone... "

"WHAT do you mean?" Pinkie snapped, suddenly angry.

"Oh, nothing..." the shunter purred, as Steamie cackled madly "I'm just glad to hear you've finally... Met your match..." he practically whispered the last few words, making Pinkie blush madly, as she quickly sprinted back into Steamie's cab, releasing the brakes, and shoveling wildly, filling the firebox.

"Well, it was nice talking with you!" Steamie cheered, as Pinkie pulled the throttle. He shot backwards, instantly.

"WHEEEEEEEEEEESH!" the tank engine cried with joy, as they disappeared into the distance.

As soon as they did, Twilight burst out in giggles. Somehow, teasing the pink pony like that felt TOO good. Diesel, on the other hand, looked disgusted.

"BLEEEAAAUGH!" he grimaced, sticking his tongue out "Sparkle, remind me NOT to do that ever again!"

"Wh-hy?" Twilight chortled "t. Was. HILARIOUS!" she said, laughing uncontrollably.

"For such an amateur like YOU, perhaps." the diesel snorted "But for an expert like ME, it was low-class, and degrading!" he sneered.

"Amateur?" Twilight suddenly asked "But you said..."

"You may be a natural driver." the engine replied "But I'm an experienced bastard."

"Bastard?" Twilight replied, eyes blank.

"Yes." Diesel smirked evilly "A master of jeers, the scheming, oily trickster in the shadows, king of nasty pranks and sour lessons, a booby-trap mastermind!" he said with pride. "Call me whatever you like, but you can't change mine, or correctly, OUR general nature." he said in a haughty voice, eyes closed "We're all bastards at the core, all values aside. What can I say?" he opened his eyes halfway "This is how we roll."

On their way back to the sidings, Twilight couldn't help but to think about what her engine said. Wait... Her? Diesel was JUST an engine. If anything, he belonged to Equestrian Rail. Or the Other Railway. Or the sheds. Not to HER. Yet... There was a feeling of familiarity when she stepped inside his cab once more, now driving him cab first towards Bowler's coaches. A feeling of comfort. Maybe it was the warmth of the cab compared to the cool, late afternoon air.

And what did he meant by "us"? The Other Railway? Diesels in general? Or...

They arrived to the coaches, and the lavender unicorn quickly coupled them up. Soon, they were at the station, where Bowler was waiting.

"Oh, THERE you are!" he snapped with mimicked anger "Hurry up, you lot, I haven't got all night!"

Diesel grunted, and even Twilight found it hard not to snap back at the snooty passenger engine.

But soon enough, Bowler was ready. Tooting goodbye to the shunter with a conceited smirk, he rumbled off, pulling his coaches with delicacy.

Diesel only snorted with disdain. He glanced to the side, and was surprised to see Twilight glaring after the engine with a mix of anger and envy. The engine smirked. He wouldn't admit it to himself, but he was beginning to like his new driver... The pony. NOT HIS new driver. The pony. Right...

"Cheer up." he muttered to him, sarcastically "We got our own train to pull!"

They found the line of nine trucks plus brake van in a shady siding behind the smaller engine shed.

The train mostly consisted of vans, painted dark, grayish blue or dull black, with the fire hazard sign on each of them. The vans themselves were old, two-axle ones, seemingly just after a re-paint. There was also a oil tanker at the back, right before the break van.

As Diesel was coupled up, the last door slammed shut.

Their load was dynamite, required for mining operations. It was safely packet up in the trucks, and the oil tanker actually contained extinguishing liquid.

The guard blew his whistle, and their signal dropped, the light green. Honking his quieter horn, Diesel rattled out of the station onto the open line...

They've been going down the main line for some time, before he noticed something.

"Twilight Sparkle?" he asked.

"Yes, Diesel?" the mare asked back.

"What position is the gear lever in?"

All diesel shunters on the Other Railway had been equipped with a 3 mode gear system - Shunt, Cruise and Haul. Shunt was the lowest gear, allowing the engine to move trains with great traction, at the expense of speed. Cruise was used when engines had to travel without a train. It was significantly faster than the Shunting mode, but didn't provided much traction. Haul was only added when shunters actually had to pull trains. It granted them half the speed of Cruise - which usually had five times the top speed of Shunt - with the Shunting mode's traction. This of course, taxed the engine's fuel supply greatly, but they later managed to "economize" this problem.

"It's in "Cruise"..." Twilight replied.

"Switch it to "Haul" immediately!" Diesel snapped, and the pony quickly did so.

They arrived to the mine's station safely, and shunted the trucks to a siding... After that, and quick refuel, they began their journey down the steep slope of the hillside serpentine of train tracks - Pyker's Peak was a long way up.

The mountain itself looked like Swiss cheese, filled with holes - earlier mines. Some even dug all the way through the mountain.

They had to stop at a semaphore, a few miles before mines' branch line reached the main line...

Diesel had been travelling cab first again, so Twilight was the first one to saw the red light. Reluctantly, she stopped the engine. She was mentally tired with the day's work, and wished to be home in her nice, warm bed.

Diesel felt the same, but didn't wanted to rush. He had once jumped a signal, and nearly collided with Stuck-Up, of all engines. A smooch from the disgustingly posh express locomotive disturbed him to the point of a catatonia-close-call, and made his pistons jump around like mad - he could instantly feel the taste of oil sludge in his mouth.

He was thankfully interrupted from his thoughts by his own air-horn blaring furiously, Twilight hitting the crank of it impatiently.

"C'mon!" she hollered "I wanna go home! CHANGE!"
And she continued slamming onto the crank. But, to her surprise and fury, no sound came.

"HEY! WHAT GIVES?!" she snapped.

"Now listen up there, Missy!" Diesel growled "You may be tired, but I was the one actually did the work here! AND, it was ONLY your first day! It only gets harder from this point onwards, so either SHUT UP OR PISS OFF!"

The mare didn't replied. She just gave and angry sigh.

Moments passed.

Suddenly, from the distance, the wails of a siren came.

"What's that?" Twilight asked. Diesel heard it too.

"Uuuuh... Shark warnings?" he guessed.

Another noise hit the engine's metaphorical ears, and he looked back up the line, his lamp illuminating as much as possible.

His eyes went wide.

"Twilight. Drive." he muttered.
"But... The signal..." the mare protested.

"Fuck the signal, DRIVE! QUICK!"

The unicorn immediately did so, turning the handle to max, brakes completely released. Diesel shot backwards, cab first, onto the main line - a long line of stone hoppers following him at a ground shaking speed...

Down on the slope, it was easy to keep distance between them and the trucks. But once on the main line, things got harder.

Diesel literally burst trough the points, making them jam in the position leading to the mine's branch line. Rattling after him came the trucks.

By some weird act of fate - and by the negligence of tardy signalmare - they ended up on the express line, the stone train gaining up on them...

"What do we do now?!" Twilight screamed.

"We'll have to let them catch us." came the reply.

"WHAT?!"

"We'll have to stop those trucks! It's a runaway!" Diesel explained "If WE don't stop 'em, they might KILL someone else!"

He winced.

"Don't think that I like the idea! But we gotta do it! So..." he took a deep breath "Ready, Sparkle?"

Twilight stared at the trucks from the cab. Diesel's hood hid most of the sight, but she could still see the long line of large double-bogie trucks that crept closer and closer in their run.

With a spark in her eye, Twilight's face became determined. She grabbed hold of the control handle, and reached out to the brakes.

"Ready, Diesel!"

It was on!

They raced down the line, trucks slowly gaining at them, while Diesel blasted his air-horn all the way.

Signal boxes and stations warned each other about the runaway, and safety measures have been taken. The main line was closed off from the branch lines, stations and yards, ponies on unavoidable stations were cleared from the platforms. Signals and points were set, all preparation done.

Except one.

Diesel watched as the trucks slowly crept forward, finally hitting his buffers with a metallic thump.

This made the engine jerk backwards, and the mare momentarily lost her balance, but quickly regained it.

They waited until the trucks didn't felt like pushing that much.

"NOW!" Diesel yelled.

Instantly, Twilight switched to neutral, and slammed the brakes on. With a loud hiss, the shunter's brakes came on, his traction rods stopping in their turn, wheels throwing sparks everywhere with an ear-splitting screech.

Instantly, the trucks felt pushing again, but through the push, the engine could feel their pace growing less.

However, a sharp pain reminded him about physics, and what he should be doing.

"Twilight! Release the brakes!" he yelled through the cacophony.

"ARE YOU NUTS?!" Twilight screamed back.

"My brakes are overheating!" Diesel roared back "If I don't let go, they'll melt, and we'll never stop this bloody train!"

The mare was reluctant, but proceeded. Instantly, she felt the jerk of the trucks pushing them again, but this time, it was weaker!

She waited for a minute, and slammed the brakes on again, the runaway growing significantly slower.

"A few clear miles, and we're done!" she cheered.

"Calling D8, calling D8! This is Yard C-P-1!" an electronic voice said. Twilight, nearly falling off the chair again, looked around, and saw the source of the voice - it was the radio transceiver. Not watching what she flicked, she reached out to it, and replied through the din. She assumed they were D8.

"This is D8!" she couldn't stop herself "Over!"

"D8! We know of the runaway!" the voice answered "Give us your coordinates!"

"Uuuuhh..." Twilight muttered, unsure of what to say. Diesel, who had heard everything, was quick to reply:

"We're about thirty miles down the line, approaching fast! We have a runaway consisting of..." he counted for a moment "Twenty fully loaded stone hoppers, no brake van! We need a few clear miles, and we can stop it!"

"Right. Which line are you using?"

Diesel didn't respond.

Twilight glanced out through the windows of the cab. It was a three-track line, and they were travelling on the middle one.

And the middle one was...

"We're on the Express line!" she screamed.

"Right. The lines empty in your section, and..." the voice stopped "Hang on! This is bad!"

"What's wrong?!" the unicorn asked.

"The line's not clear!" the radiocolt cried "The 20:35 InterCity is due!"

Deadpanning, Twilight turned around, looking out through the window.

In the distance, she could see and hear another train approaching. Focusing on it, she saw that it was Pip - or Emma, she couldn't tell the twins apart, especially from such a distance.

Pip (or Emma) also noticed them, and blasted her two-tone horn loudly, panic all over her face.

Twilight only stared, her mind frozen in fear.

Subconsciously, she reached out to the brakes, released them, and slammed them on again, repeating over and over...

Diesel noticed this.

"Sparkle. Why are you morsing... "OH DEAR CELESTIA, TAKE ME NOW"... On my brakes? If I caught that correctly..." he muttered.

Then, he heard the two-tone horn.

And noticed just WHICH siding he was on.

"SSsssssshit!"

The trucks were at a moderate speed now, and with a hasted emergency stopping, could have came to a halt.

The InterCity, however, which was going MUCH faster, needed more time and space.

And there was none.

"Well... It was nice to meet you, Twilight Sparkle." Diesel muttered, bitterly "See you on the other side."

Twilight didn't reply. She was busy uttering a prayer to Harmonia, the ancient ruler of Equestria.

Diesel also considered praying, but he never was much of a believer, so...

"Hey... Sparkle..." he grinned "This may be my last run. End of the line, so to speak. Do me a favor."

Twilight finally snapped out of her panicked trance.

"Yes?"

"If I gotta go, I wanna go down with pride." Diesel explained "Now, that's sorta busted, 'cause I'm travelling arse first towards my colleague, about to be turned into metal foil with a blood sample on it, if you don't get out!"

"What?" the mare asked.

"What I'm saying is, give me the ultimate honor. Release my brakes, turn all my lamps on, secure my electric horn, full on, and get out of here!

"I can't release the brakes!" Twilight replied, jamming them on again, the pace now steadily decreasing without the brakes overheating "There are passengers on that train! And I'm NOT leaving you behind!"

"Are you fucking insane?!" Diesel yelled "You're going to get killed!"

"I'm not leaving a friend behind!" the mare hollered back.

Diesel rolled his eyes.

"Your funeral. Literally."

Twilight's eyes darted around on the rails in front of them.

Suddenly, she saw a set of points, just right ahead.

It only took a flick from her horn to set the points, diverting them away from the express line, the last truck getting off ONE SECOND before the other train passed by, knocking the points back into their original position.

Screeching loudly, with the trucks banging behind him, Diesel slid down the siding, which led him onto an overgrown tracks, plunging into the darkness.

Back at the yards, everyone had heard the news.

Pinkie Pie and Steamie were resting near the water tower.

"I hope they're alright." Pinkie muttered with worry.

"Oh, don't worry!" the tank engine replied "With Diesel's dexterity and Twilight's magic, I'll sure they'll manage just fine!"

"Hey, can you hear that, Steamie?" the party pony suddenly asked.

There was an odd droning noise filling the air.

The next second, crashing through the bushes from the edge of the meadow came Diesel, running cab front, wheels throwing sparks everywhere, a line of stone hoppers behind him, horn honking loud and fluent. He skidded through the yard, slipped pass the tank engine and Pinkie, and careered into the the carriage works, crashing through the heavy wooden doors, and smashing through the other door on the other side, finally hitting some buffers, the train jerking to a stop with a loud clank, some stone falling out from the trucks.

As the dust cleared and the noise died down, the runaway became visible, now stopped, and still on the rails.

Diesel's engine spluttered, and, with a loud BANG!, shut down completely, his lamps going out altogether.

Silence filled the yard...

"...Or not. - Steamie muttered."

After shunting the trucks to a siding near by, the steam engine towed the Class 08 back in front of the work sheds.

Thankfully, aside from bent buffer beams, worn brakes and a clapped-out engine, Diesel was fine. Twilight suffered a minor concussion, having passed out before the impact.

But soon enough, she came back around. She sat up, having been laying on the ground for a good half and hour by now.

"Have we stopped yet?" was her first question. She soon found herself embraced in the most tightest, yet most gentle hug she ever felt, aside from her mother's.

Pinkie held her tight, crying happy tears over her shoulders. Steamie looked at Diesel with deep respect and admiration.

Gently, Twilight hugged back, smiling happily. She was alive. Diesel was alive! THEY MADE IT!

Even Diesel couldn't help but to smirk, as the tank engine shunted him to the work sheds, careful not to put sudden pressure on his sore buffer beams.

It was near midnight when Twilight arrived home.

Spike had been frantic, and was more than thrilled to see her still in one piece.

Unfortunately to him, Twilight was completely exhausted, and she simply collapsed onto her bed, to tired to even cover up.

"C'MON, Twilight!" the dragon nagged "You gotta tell me SOMETHING!"

Twilight gave a tired, wry smile.

"OK." she muttered. Spike stared with anticipation, as the mare continued:

"I think my training session was a success!" she said with a devious smirk, before turning to the other side "And so was Pinkie's..."

"Oh..." Spike responded "Well, I got to know Mr. Bottomsly better today. He's actually really intelligent, sophisticated, and..."

But Twilight was already fast asleep.

Diesel's buffer beams were quickly mended (magic IS magic), and he was shunted into his berth by Steamy.
He just stood there, sullen as ever, and in an especially crap mood.

"'Ey. 'Eard 'bou' yer "aks'on", lad..." Spamcan spoke up from the next siding "Tha' wa' sum' pre'y serious stunt ya di' dere, Diesel."

"Yeah. I have to admit, it was very impressive." Bowler agreed from a bit further away.

"Most definitely." Stuck-Up added "Couldn't have done it better myself, I may ad. You did exactly the right thing, AND in style."

"Well, that's very nice of you to say, guys..." Diesel replied with a suspiciously kind tone. His voice then turned gruff again "But that doesn't make up for my busted buffers and engine!"

"Oh?" Cromwell asked, unamused "Your buffers are fixed. And you'll be getting a new engine tomorrow. Alexei himself promised to get the equipment, and deal with the... "Remotorization", as he said."

"And, as you've said yourself, Diesel, he's a God." Derek added smugly "The LEAST he can do is to get you GOOD new engine! Especially after your heroic deed today!"

"Oh, will you shut up about it?!" Diesel snapped "There was NOTHING bloody heroic about it! I did what I was supposed to do in such situation, and I nearly got myself, my driver, and either Pip or Emma killed!"

"Actually, Diesel." Emma spoke up "That was me."

"Good. FANTASTIC." the shunter sneered. Suddenly, he remembered something.

"Ääähm... Emma?" he asked.

"Yes, Diesel?"

"Since I was running cab first, I couldn't really see forward. Sooo... Just WHAT averted me onto that siding? A signalman can't be that fast. So, tell me, Emma... Did you saw anything?"

"Well... - the commuter engine replied, thoughtfully - It happened very fast, but for the slightest moment... I think... I saw some light on the points..." she muttered, thinking hard "A... Purple aura around the rails. It changed the points, just in time.

"Purple aura?" Derek uttered "Hmmmm... Sounds like magic."

"Magic?" Diesel asked back.

"Say... I heard you were mentoring some mare this morning." the Class 17 stated "Who was it?"

"First off, it wasn't JUST this morning, it was this DAY." the shunter grumbled "And second, it was the Sparkle girl."

"Wha', ya mea' Twiligh' Spa'kl'?" Bert spoke up, surprised.

"Yeah, that's her name..." Diesel muttered "What of it?"

"Well... She's ONLY the Element of Magic from the Elements of Harmony." Derek retorted.

"Oh, for God's sake, Derek! Not everyone's as big of a brony as you are!" the jet black diesel growled "Yeah, so she's the 'Element of Magic'! Good for me!"

"Indeed!" Derek replied in a serious tone "She saved your life! AND Emma's!"

Diesel went silent.

"Oi thin' ya shoul' than' 'er, Diesel..." Bert muttered "Ya owe 'er one."

There was a long pause.

Then, the engine sighed.

"Fine."

Silence took over again.

But it's reign was soon broken by 'Arry.

"So... 'ow wa' she?"

The shunter thought for a moment.

"Surprisingly good, to be honest. She learned quickly, and didn't needed much encouragement. Guess she's a natural."

"Yes. At learning." Derek replied, before falling asleep.

Diesel thought back. He had seen the mare and her dragon arrive with a big bag. And as the dragon tossed the bag away vigorously, he could see it's contents flying out - parchments, quills, bottles of ink, a book of some sort...

He chuckled inwardly, and went to sleep as well.

"Wait-a-minute! Where's my bag?!"

"Uhhh..."

"SPIIIKEEE!!!"

"Aw hay..."

Episode 2 - The Smog in the Orchard

THE SMOG IN THE ORCHARD

It was morning in Equestria, and Celestia's sun shone brightly through the clouds.

The air was crisp, and moist with dew, most lights still dim, even the sun itself seemed sleepy (and you haven't even seen the princess herself!). But still, even so early in the morning, the railway was already bustling with life - freight trains being delivered from town to town, or beyond the borders, morning commuter trains, filled with the many office workers of Canterlot and Manehattan that lived away from the bustling cities, and the earliest morning local goods trains, not moving beyond their sectors of the railway system.

But in Ponyville, things were different. The recently opened marshaling yard was short on employees, so, it was yet to deal with multiple tasks at once. However, the usual trains, such as the local high-speed commuter service, the Express, and the local freight was already dealt with. But today, there was a... Minor disturbance: Bowler, code number D261, had to pull the goods train for the day (much to his displeasure and total retaliation), as it's usual runner had other business to attend to.

The usual engine in front of such trains, on the Other Railway, at least, was the engine numbered D199, but referred to as "Spamcan" by his peers. Said engine was currently resting in his berth in the engine shed, most of the others had already left, the remainder being him, the posh-toff Express engine, number 40125, "Old Stuck-Up", and the kind and polite, if wussy, mix-traffic engine, Derek.

The LAST thing Spamcan wanted to do is talk with the snooty express locomotive, and Derek was parked to far away - the goods engine didn't felt the urge to shout THROUGH Stuck-Up, either.

Moments passed, and his driver was yet to arrive.

This was no surprise, though: it was his turn to take train a temp. Since the Other Railway (and it's surrounding comrades, the engines of the many different, low-quality private railways of Britain, and from all around the world, later) made it's unwilling escapade, and ventured to Equestria - permanently, as it seemed, they had been working hard under better conditions, as they promised to the supreme rulers of the country, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. However, Equestria's already existing rail network was in an era of stagnation, and the new fleet of engines and rolling stock needed new operators - as such, a training program had began, where university-age ponies and others could temporarily join the railway, learn a certain job as back-up in case they couldn't fill in their desired occupations, and in return, do some work for the railway as well. So far, the program was running smoothly, more and more adolescent equines, griffons and other beings joining the rails for a work experience (to skip school), and similar programs were in full swing in the many provinces of the Equestrian Kingdom, and abroad as well.

As an engine, Spamcan HAD to take part in this, although he wasn't really willing to do so. Sure, the ponies were kind sorts, eager to work, and looked after them well, but training newbies has always been a chore, especially when they were new ENGINES rather than people. In fact, when he thought back, he figured that working with the benevolent equine dwellers of this world may turn out to be a piece of cake... Derek and Bert were in it deeply, and although the former was a complete wuss, and the latter probably had a toaster in the place of his brain, he trusted them just enough to give this world a try.

So he sat there, in the darkness of his berth, waiting, his mind busy digging trough it's nothing box.

Then, the door opened.

"Good morning, Spamcan!" the driver greeted him, opening one wing of the double door. Light poured in, temporarily blinding the diesel, as the other wing opened as well. Nictating in order to get used to the increased amount of light, he could still make out the silhouette of another pony at the door. Soon enough, his eyes got used to the light, and he could see who the two ponies were. One was the temporal driver he had been working with, and the other one was the trainee.

"Heh... Sorry 'bout that..."

What a familiar voice. The pony itself - herself - was familiar as well: orange fur, brown cowgirl hat, blonde mane and tail tied in ponytail (quite fittingly), and three apples on her flank. A name flashed through his mind.

"You'r'... Applejack, right?" he asked, in his thick, British working class accent. The cowmare smiled.

"Eeyup!" she replied. Spamcan just sniffed, his nose yanked to the side, slightly, as his mouth grimaced, pushing up one of his cheeks up, wrinkling it. It was just a quick motion, but it remained clear in the orange pony's brain. Still, she decided to ignore it.

"An' ya must be D199!" she went on.

"Eh, jus' call me Spamca'. Ev'rybo'y does..."

"Ah can see why..." the mare smirked.

Spamcan was, even by freight engines' standards, incredibly dirty. From wheels to top, he was covered in grease, soot, ashes, dust, and on the lower regions, close to the wheels, dried mud, scratches and spots of rust. His buffers were only clean because he used them so often they couldn't stay dirty. His paintjob - dark BR blue with bright red buffer plates, yellow warning panels and a gray roof - was JUST recognizable through the layers of filth. Filth, that he reveled in - the less he looked like upperclass Stuck-Up, and the more he could make the picky, hypochondriac Bowler freak out, the better he felt. And, a true working class engine at heart, he couldn't care less about his looks - he was unshaven with a heavy stubble, his nose dent, presumably a result of being broken once or twice, and he, like the many diesels of the other railway, had quite large eyebrows, though his weren't snaky like Diesel's or fuzzy like Stuck-Up's. His eyebrows were straight, a bit angular, and thick, nevertheless.

They were now bent down, in the habitual frown he usually had, as he eyed up the earth pony in front of him, while the workcolt checked him for any mechanical problems.

He knew it from Derek that Applejack herself was a hard-working mare, honest (heck, even the element of it), stubborn, and always ready to help. She stood for no nonsense, be it Rarity's artsy melodramas, or Rainbow Dash's own stubbornness or boasting - pretty much like how he thought of and treated the other diesels. There were MINOR differences, though:

He was, by all sense of the world, a British engine - he worked hard (when not slacking off), drank heavily with ease, fought dirty and without hesitation or restrain, was quick to trash-talk, yet, had his standards, and was everything, but UNfamiliar with the many sorts of industry.

Applejack, on the other hand, was typical American farmer (Spamcan thanked the God of Combustion Motors for her not being a redneck stereotype when met in person). She also worked hard, trying to prove her worth, even if it was unnecessary - akin to the way he tried to be the toughest engine around -, and while trying to remain a sensible and tranquil mare, she was presumably a top-notch fighter, without doubt - learning to fight wasn't that hard, and being as hard-working as she is, she VERY probably had the muscles to back it up. She wasn't likely to loose self-control as easily as he did, and while she had the stamina to stand drinks, her digestive system didn't had the same capacity - unlike him, who had fuel tanks as well. Also, she probably had (at least, SOMEWHAT) higher standards than him. But most importantly, she was a farmer, used to being close to nature. And he was worker, used to smoke, steel, concrete, and long shifts at awkward times.

An inevitable difference.

"So..." he spoke on his gruff voice "Yer goin' t' be my dri'e, righ'?"

"Ah thin' so." she replied "And yah'll be mah mentor."

"Not JUST your mentor." the colt replied, stepping out of the cab "He'll be your engine as well."

"WHAT?" the two asked in unison.

"Oh, didn't you heard?" the colt asked, surprised "It's the Princesses' orders. You'll learn how to drive an engine on D199, and you'll be his permanent driver from then on. Sure, he may have substitute drivers in case you're busy or sick, but he's your engine. And you'll be his driver. Now, if you'd come with me, I'll show you the controls and tell you some useful information. The rest will be up to you and Spamcan."

And, he and the mare made their way into his cab, where he explained the engine's control panel. Meanwhile, Spamcan waited outside, thinking about what the colt said. It didn't lasted long, though.

Spike showed up, making his morning routine as a fitter - his small size proving to be a great use in his work. As he checked over Spamcan, more thoroughly than the driver, they began to talk.

"So... You're the trainer this week?" the dragon asked, checking his couplings and break pipes.

"Yeah." the engine replied shortly. He wasn't really in a talkative mood, heck, he wasn't even a talkative sort at all. But, you gotta socialize...

"It's Applejack."

"Really?" Spike asked "Good. She suits you." He had been around the engines for a time long enough to know their personalities and relations. They weren't that nice, but acceptable - better than the group of his own kind he had to deal with when he joined the Migration. The Other Railway engines were different - they were sullen, and rough, but not tumble and antagonizing like the dragons. They were also quite sardonic and sarcastic - much like him - and were in for a good laugh - "for a change", as they often said.

Spike himself WAS surprised how quickly he learned the "physiology" of the engines - their mechanism, namely - and was on his way to gain expertise. Naturally, the most problematic case was Derek with his constant overheating and other, plentiful engine problems. The Class 17 was optimistic, and this quickly stuck on Spike as well, whenever he was dealing with Derek - which was QUITE a lot of times.

As for Spamcan, while he naturally had no concept of what was the country and place the gruff goods engine came from, he could still see that he was a hard-working sort, who, if encouraged to actually DO his job, did it very well, even if half-heartedly.

"Yeah... I gue' so." the diesel replied, pondering "Although, CLE'LY, we'e NO' th' same. She's a' apple fa'me', I'm a freigh' diesel."

"Ah, you'll manage." the dragon replied, trying to scrub off some dirt from his lamps using the scales of his elbows "Besides, it could be worse..."

"Yeah, I figured." Spamcan replied before adding with a guileful smirk "I could've go'en Rari'y..."

The dragon only frowned on that comment, forcefully scratching the engine's paint with his tail as he examined the bogies.

Spamcan just laughed.

"Anyways." Spike grumbled, before changing his tone "Don't you find it suspicious that, all of a sudden, you're chosen to be working with Applejack, of all ponies, who suits you well? I mean, Twilight is a clever pony, the smartest I've ever met, beside the Princess, and she get's to work with none other, than THE 'Devious' Diesel!"

"Ya migh' be onto sum'thin' dere, lad..." D199 replied, after a pause "Yeah, tha's qui'e cu'iou'..."

They were interrupted by a voice coming from the cab:

"Alright, now that you know all the controls, let's see, how well can you drive." it was the voice of the workcolt "Let's start this nice and simple... The door's open, and I want you to drive Spamcan onto the turntable. You finished yet, Spike?" he asked, leaning out through the door.

"All done, sir!" the dragon replied, and stood aside.

"Right." the colt replied, and turned to the mare "Alright, Applejack, all set. Let's see how it's done."

"Alright! Let's go!" she replied. But as she looked down at the control panel, she grew nervous. Just to start this engine, she had to turn THREE different levers into separate directions. She began to sweat.

""It's OK, Applejack, you can do this!"" she encouraged herself, mentally. Slowly, with forelegs shaking slightly, she brought her hooves down onto the brakes and throttle...

Spamcan, still thinking about what Spike said, was woken from his thoughts by the feeling of his own engine starting with a rumble, two thick pillars of dark gray smoke shooting out of his exhaust, adding to the soot splodges on his roof. There was the hiss of his brakes, and, with rev of his engine, he lurched forward, towards the door - a bit too fast, maybe, but he trusted the colt enough to help the mare in case something goes wrong. He could see that the table was already set to his direction, but suddenly, something blocked his vision - one of the wings of the shed's door had mysteriously closed.

It was probably wasn't secured properly, and a gust of wind must of blown in shut, but that was the last of the engine's worries.

"Pull the brakes, PULL THE BRAKES!" the colt yelled. Panicking, the mare pulled just the right lever, and with a shrill hiss, Spamcan's brakes came on hard, his wheels screeching, but his momentum carried him on, slipping down the rails.

With a loud BANG!, he smashed into the door, making it slam open, finally stopping.

Immediately, the colt and Applejack jumped out of the cab, and rushed to his front, to see if he suffered any damage (or injury, given the fact he ran face-first into half a shed door), while Spike examined the door.

Thankfully, Spamcan wasn't hurt - his buffer was the first to crash into the door, and those things are sturdy - his face barely touched the door.

"I'm no' 'ur'." he muttered, surprised by the worrying ponies "Jus' star'ed."

The door, on the other hand, wasn't fairing that well. It's metal frame was badly twisted, some of the ground glass windows were fractured, or even broken, many hard wood planks were broken into splinters, and the hinges were deformed.

"Who opened this wing?" Spike asked.

Applejack's eyes went wide, and she bit her lower lip, before muttering.

"Ah... Ah did..."

"Sorry, that was my fault!" the workcolt interrupted quickly "I should of told you to fixate the door. Anyways..." he muttered "Let's continue with the training, we'll deal with the door later. But this time, be a bit SLOWER..."

It was as easy as pie (though, not Pinkie Pie, of course) from then on.

After the initial shock, Applejack's stress had disappeared, and she could handle tasks with ease.

Backwards or forwards, tackling sharp turns, and railway regulations, even Rule 55!

Soon, it was time for the earth pony and the diesel to pull their first train together. The colt had already left, leaving the two to deal with task themselves.

Spamcan was calm, even a bit bored, but Applejack was nervous again.

'Arry and Bert, the Ironworks diesels shunted their train of flatbeds full of metal girders and pipes. They were for a construction in Stalliongrad Oblast, which meant they had to take the train all the way to the northern border, where the North National Railways would take over. That was a long way away, so Spamcan had a nice, long refill at the fuel depot.

He did noticed, however, that Applejack was fidgeting around.

"If ya go'a go t' th' toile', go no', 'cuz' we ca' sto' du'in' th' tri' if we wanna ma'e i' ba' b'fo' mi'nigh'."

"No, it's not that, sugahcab." Applejack blushed. "Sugarcab" was her moniker for the grimy engine, who wasn't at one bit pleased with this, but didn't complained.

"It's just that... Ah'm worried..."

"'bou' wha'?"

"It's a looong trip we're lookin' towards... What if Ah fail?"

Spamcan grunted.

"Bullcrap. Th' o'ly one 'o ca' fail is ME. All YOU gotta do is kee' ca'm an' obey s'mapho's an' re'ula'ions. So don' worry. No' c'mon, we go' a train t' pull."

They trundled into the station, next to the narrower goods platform. The train was just being shunted in by the Iron twins - a long line of steel girders and pipes, all chained down in flatbeds. The trucks were newer ones, so they didn't needed a brake van. Spamcan gave them a small bump to test their weight - they were pretty heavy, but evenly balanced, so they would stay on the rails, even if they would be going fast in bends. The diesel was coupled up, but he didn't had time to turn around, which meant that Applejack had to go to his other cab, and that he couldn't see what's in front of the train - but at least could keep an eye on the trucks, well, the first one, anyway...

However, this didn't help the poor cowmare, who grew increasingly anxious, as she walked over to the other cab. She climbed in, and sat down on the seat, shaking slightly.

The shunters ran around the train, to see if anything was amiss. Finally, they were given the all clear - the electronic signal of the station turned green. With a deep breath, the mare released the brakes, and pushed the throttle forward, making the train move.

Suddenly, there was shrill whistle, and the light turned red again. Applejack quickly stopped the engine, and climbed out of the cab.

"What it Tarnation?!" she snapped.

"Well, we'e 'bou' t' fin' ou'..." Spamcan muttered, looking forward. The Doctor was running up to them.

"Wha's u', Doc?" the goods engine asked on a sarcastic voice.

"Sh-Sh-Sorry abou' that!" the brown earth pony huffed as he stopped beside them "There was a change of orders in the very last second!"

"Oh, Ah can imagine THAT!" Applejack muttered, but listened anyway.

"Nuh-Now, it seems that there was a change in the transport plan. A Stalliongradian engine is waiting in Manehattan Central's freight department. So your journey is reduced to that destination."

"Righ'." thus Spamcan.

"OK." thus Applejack.

"Alright. The line's clear, so I suggest you start as soon as possible. You'll have to take the same route, all the way to Trottingham Junction. It changes there, but they've been called in advance, so you don't have to worry around it..." Doctor Whooves continued, walking off to the other side of Spamcan, when he suddenly notices something... "Also, change the headcode! You'll have to be able to be identified!" and with that, he trotted off.

"Oh, bollocks!" the engine muttered. The mare looked puzzled.

"Headcode? What's that?" she asked, walking up to the end of the train. Then, she saw it.

Two black blocks in the front of this side, one with the the letters "AC" and the other with the number 10 in it, all white, and seemed to be illuminated by a faint light from behind. The glass covering them was incredibly dirty, yet, the code was still visible. They seemed to be a bit dispossession, though: the 'A' was a bit crooked, and the zero of the '10' was half off...

"What's all this about?" she asked. D199 took a deep breath.

"Ev'ry eng'ne on th' rai'way has a numbe'. Mine's Dee-One-Nine'ynine. Bu', if a' eng'ne 'as t' pul' a trai', dey also ge' a headcode. Mine hasn't bee' set fo' ye'rs ou' o' negligence. Bu' I 'AVE bee' giv'n th' new set of code le'ers fi'in' fo' DIS rai'way, an' a new device t' change 'em. Ya'll fin' i' on th' control panel."

Applejack quickly climbed back up, and soon found the device in question: a small box secured on the very right of the panel, with a four-digit quartz screen, and four nabs underneath it. As she turned it on, the faint light behind the code became stronger, simultaneously, as the screen of the device turned on. There was a clank, and the mare hurried outside, only to find that the 'A' and the zero were now perfectly on the spot, no longer crooked or half off, as if pulled tight on their black canvas. Climbing back in, she sat down, staring at the quartz screen, displaying the numbers and letters in red...

"Oh, God... I'll 'ave t' 'xplai' th' codin', righ'?" the diesel muttered.

"Ah believe so, sug." the cowmare sighed.

"Righ'..." Spamcan groaned, and began:

"Each ch'racte' ca' be a le'er, rangin' fro' A t' Z, or a numbe', rangin' fro' zero t' nine. The fi'st, lef'mos' ch'racte' ind'ca'es th' class of th' trai', so i's usu'lly a numbe'.

One, o' numbe' 1, mea's i's an e'spress trai', nomina'ed pos' or parcel train, o' any kin' o' maint'nanc' trai' goin' to fix sum'in', fo' example, clea' th' line fro' snow, o' - God forbi'! - a trai'wre'k, maybe fix th' ove'ead wires, o' assis' a fail'd train.

T'o, o' numbe' 2, mea's i's a no'mal pass'nger trai', o' a maint'nanc' trai' tha' has done i's job, an is returnin', o' maybe an Off'cers' Spec. trai', ya 'no', sor' o' li'e an inspecto' trai'.

T'ree, o' numbe' 3, mea's i's a freigh' trai' tha' ca' run fas'e' tha' 75 mph, essentially, an "E'spress Go's trai'", or a Spec-Aut empty train."

"A what?" Applejack asked.

"A Specially A'thorized trai' o' em'ty coaches."

"Oh."

Smapcan continued:

"Fo', o' numbe' 4, mea's i's a freigh' trai' tha' ca' o'ly go as fast as 75 mph.

Five, o' numbe' 5, is an trai' o' em'ty coaches.

Si's, o' numbe' 6, is a freigh' trai', tha' ca' o'ly go as fast as 60 mph.

Se'en, o' numbe' 7, is, again, a freigh' trai', tha' ca' o'ly go as fast as 45 mph, essentially, a slo' go's trai'.

Eigh', o' numbe' 8, is a freigh' trai', tha', ei'he' due t' i's load, o' th' timetables, CAN'T go fas'e' tha' 35 mph, o' o'ly has t' tra'el be'wee' t'o sta'ions.

Nine, or number 9, mea's i's an int'rnational trai', whi's 'as qui'e freakin' jum'y schedules."

"An' zero?" the mare asked.

"Eh. A locomotive tha' isn' nee'e' anywhe'e, so i' jus' tra'els down th' line, pe'haps i's bein' reloca'ed fo' th' time bein', o' wha'eve'. Worse case s'enario, i's on i's las' journey, as i's bein' sold t' ano'he' com'any."

He pondered for a moment.

"Now, we'e ta'in' a trai' tha' is deliverin' freigh', an' goes fas'e' than 75 mph, which mea's..."

"Th' fi'st numbe' is numbe' t'o!" Applejack exclaimed, not noticing that she had somehow picked up the grimy engine's accent for a moment "Now, wha' 'bou' th' se'on'?"

"Sto' mimi'in' me." the diesel grunted, making the mare blush.

"Sorry."

"Anyways, th' se'on' ch'racte' indica'e' th' region o' province, so, i's usu'lly a le'er.

A is fo' Appleloosa, an' th' west'n region in general.

B is fo' Brüissail, an' th' Europonian Union in general.

C is for Canterlot, an' since we'e in this province, i' may also mea' we'e goin' T' Canterlot i'self.

D is fo' Dainmark, and the Scandeneighvian region in general.

E is fo' Equestria, i' case i's a numbe' 9 class trai'.

F is fo' Fraunce, an' West'n Europone in general.

G is fo' Girafrica, again, i' case i's a numbe' 9 trai'.

H is fo' Hungery, an' Central-East'n Europone in general.

I is fo' Iraland, which mea's we'e NO' be goin' t' go de'e tha' much, as all services de'e are dun' by th' Eagleland Cross-Coun'y Rail Service.

J is New-Jockey, an' th' east coast o' Phillydelphia in general.

K is fo' Coltland, 'cause Canterlot to' th' 'C' ea'lie', again, all service is dun' by th' E.C.C.R.S..

L is fo' Lieutenania, an' th' Boltic region in general.

M is fo' Mexicolt, an' th' South'n states in general.

N is fo' Neighterlands..."

"Which means we're NOT goin' to go there, wha'ever the reason, WHATSOEVER!" Applejack interrupted in a hurried, declarative manner.

"Ya go' tha' fro' th' tip o' my tongue." Spamcan smirked, and went on:

"O is for Oxfort, an' th' Brutish Isles in general.

P is for Phillydelphia, spe'sificly, i's wes' side.

Q is fo' track testin' trai's an' extra-special deliveries.

R is fo' museum an' priva'e trai's.

S is fo' Stalliongrad, and th' Northern Region in general.

T is fo' tes' trai's, ya 'no', li'e pro'otypes, new rollin' stock, essetra.

U is fo' "Unde'cove'", to'-se're' trai's, usu'lly mili'ary.

V is fo' VENDETTA! Nah, jus' kiddin', it's fo' "Vaul' trains", specific pos' trai's tha' car'y impor'an' documents. Dese are of'en call'd th' "Absolute Numbe' Ones", as dey 'ave priority above any othe' trai'.

W is fo' Windigo Mountains, an' minin' trai's in general.

X is fo' Royal Trai's, Ou'-o'-Gauge loads, o' Gov'nmenta' trai's.

Y is fo' "Why" trai's, trai's with unspecified dest'na'ion an' load, usu'lly foun' stran'ed, an' withou' an eng'ne.

Z is fo' maint'nanc' trai's, rangin' fro' bre'kdown trai's through Wire-repairmen' t' snowploughs."

"And we're taking this to Stalliongrad, so..." Applejack began, but Spamcan interrupted her:

"In ou' case, it's different. While ou' trai' goes t' Stalliongrad, we're no' movin' beyond region borders. We're o'ly goin' t' Manehattan, so se' i' t' 'M'."

"Right." the mare replied, and set the second number, er, letter "What about the last two?"

"Those are usu'lly numbe's tha' specify th' very trai'. Since de'e migh' be dubl'cations problems, li'e t'o similar trai's, say, an e'spress an' a V trai', goin' t' th' same destination, bu' no fro' th' same sta't, o' in th' same time. So, thei' numbe's cou' be d'fined by thei' star'in' poin', 'ome sta'ion, o' th' time dey sta'ed."

"And... In our case?" Applejack asked, now thoroughly confused.

"Meh. Ponyville's radio code is MP-1, as i's a marshalin' yard, indica'in' "M", an' th' fi'st cross-gateway junction in th' region, indica'in' "1", it's called Ponyville, indica'in' "P". Which mea's th' identity code is 31, as i's fro' Canterlot, which has th' t'ird le'er in th' region an' city codin', an' i's th' fi'st big junction in th' region."

He thought for a moment.

"An' since dis trai' had bee' loaded up and arranged 'ere, i' carries th' 'ome code."

"Sooo...?"

"31."

"Right!"

Thankfully, they had been expecting them, so the train, headcode 2M31, trundled on, with ease.

Finally, they arrived at Manehattan Central. Soon enough, the train was shunted to a siding, where the Stalliongradian engine - a robust and large diesel consisting of two units - picked it up, and left without a word, although he did hooted a thankful honk to Spamcan as he passed. The goods engine was offered a wash-down, but he refused, and instead, asked for Vodka-Cranberry-Lime cocktail with a some ice, barely shaken - which he received. Applejack herself had a nice lunch at the employee's gastropub, before returning to her engine. Soon enough, they were ready to leave. Their trip to there was relatively short, only one and half hour, in contrast of the six or seven hours it would of taken to get to the borders. Still, the cowmare was surprised.

"The last time I went to Manehattan, it took a good four hours of trainride."

"Heh." the diesel smirked "Tha' wa' b'fo' th' lines we'e stra'gh'en'd an' sor'ed ou'. I had a chance t' spea' wi'h sum' o' th' drive's. Tha' Alexei guy di' wonde's t' th' lines, dey said. Th' trac's are much mo' stra'gh'fo'ward. Also..." his smirk grew proud "Ye've bee' drivin' a diesel, no' a steamie."

"Ummm... OK?" Applejack replied "What's wrong with "steamies", though?"

"Nothin', nothin'!" Spamcan replied, a bit too quickly "Bu' ya gotta a'mit, I'm faste'!"

"Yah are, sugarcab, yah are." Applejack smiled warmly, and pet the control panel.

"Aah, wha' a l'uv'ly scene..." sad a greasy voice "Too bad I 'av'ta interrupt it..."

Applejack looked up. So did Spamcan, and groaned angrily.

Another diesel engine, almost perfectly identical to Spamcan in shape and size, slipped in next to them, his signal also red. He was painted dark BR Green, with a cream stripe running across footplate-level, with silvery-gray roof, and had shiny stainless steel wheel tires, but, unlike Spamcan, his hub covers weren't yellow. He also had yellow warning panels, but his only reached half of his face in a rectangle shape. His face was also similar to Spamcan's in many ways: same baggy-ish eyes, a slightly more pronounced, but still noticeably angular set of eyebrows. But he was shaved, safe for a downy, barely noticeable stubble-mustache and similarly almost unnoticeable Van Dyke beard-stubble. Odd enough, while his nose wasn't dented, the end of the warning panel's yellow coloring ended in the same level of Spamcan's dent. The British Rail double arrows on him were also crooked, like on the grimy diesel beside him, but his leaned into the other direction.

"Well... I's been quite sum' time... Spamcan..." he hummed, cold and murky.

Spamcan didn't reply. He just looked straight forward, angrily.

"Oh. Still pissed ove' tha' li'e c'mpetition we 'ad, all those ye'rs ago? Shame..." he muttered with faked empathy, before adding with a whisper "Pissed li'e a stinkin' steamie..."

Spamcan just revved his engine, and kept looking forward, but his face was more and more contorted with fury. The other engine kept on smirking wickedly, his shady windows successfully hiding whoever was driving him. Applejack, who had been watching the whole thing, could practically feel the ire growing in the engine, so, determined, she leaned out from the cab, and called out to the other locomotive.

"Ay! Bother someone else, tin box! What's YAR business with 'im?!"

"Wha's i' to YOU, horse?!" the engine snapped back coarsely.

"I's MY engine ya're talkin' to! That's what!" the mare snapped back.

"YOUR'S? No' li'ely!" the engine replied with a sneer - He's th' prope'ty of th' railway! And YOU'RE just a trainee!

Applejack was taken aback.

"How do you...?!" she muttered.

"Don' think I CA' notice a rookie when I saw one. And NO rookie is goin' to tell ME better!" the engine growled in a low voice, making the cowpony back away more. That was, until she heard a laugh escape from the diesel's cab, an all-too-familiar one, that made her blood boil with anger, even though she wasn't certain about it's owner.

"WHO'S IN THERE?!" she snapped, leaning out from the cab "SHOW YARSELF!" she was looking straight into the other engine's windows, much to the surprise of both locomotives.

"OI! Back off, mare! Thi' is none o' yer business!" the green engine snapped, and rev his engine loudly.

"Why don' ya jus' FU'K OFF, Sulzer?!" Spamcan growled "Ya'r signa's gree', anyway."

'Sulzer' just chuckled.

"Temper, temper, brotha'... No need to hurl up th' licence recor's in fron' of an audience." he jeered, his brakes hissing as he released them. Slowly, he moved forward, still smirking.

"So long, Spamcan. 'ope we'll ge' to talk PROPERLY next time..." and with that, and a blow from his off-key two-tone horn, Sulzer oiled away, his engine rumbling smoothly.

Spamcan and Applejack just glared after him. If looks could kill, their glance would've very probably sent the diesel straight to purgatory, even without combining them.

They didn't talk on the way back. Nor did they talk once they arrived back into the marshaling yard. Both of them was still seething with fury. They simply parked on a siding, out of everyone's side. Applejack climbed out, and stood next to the engine's buffers, leaning against his bogie.

Nobody talked to them. In fact, the many trucks, coaches and workponies avoided even glancing towards them.
Finally, after a long silence, D199 finally spoke up, his glare turning from angry to his usual, nonchalant frown:

"Bastard."

"Eeeyup." Applejack muttered back, the glare leaving her face as well, as she turned to him "Is he your brother?"

"Sum'wha'." Spamcan replied, looking away "He's a Class 45. I'm a Class 46."

"So, he's the older one..."

"Yeah. Hi' name i' Sulzer, as ya may gues'."

"Is he really yar brother?"

"Ya ca' say tha'... We'e basi'lly th' same type o' eng'nes, wi'h sum' minor diff'rences. An' he's th' o'ly "rela'e" I 'no' of. Mos' o' th' othe's 'ave bee' scrapped."

"Oh. Sorry to hear that, sug." Applejack sighed. Scrapping seemed to be a recurring death among the engines, and while they could handle it easily, the mares were strained by the fact that intelligent beings like them were mass executed in such manners. They may have been machines, but this was NO WAY to threat a sentient being.

"Neve'mind..." Spamcan replied "Bu' wha' 'bou' ya? Ya go' all agro ove' 'is driver. Wha's up?"

The mare cringed...

"Nuthin'..." she lied "Just some... Family business..."

"Wha'eve' ya say..." Spamcan replied, still unconvinced.

Doctor Whooves walked up to them.

"Glad you two are back." he smiled "Applejack, your session ends here. You may go home now. As for you, D199, there's a delivery waiting for you at Sweet Apple Acres. You'll destination will be Canterlot."

"Actually, Docter..." Applejack interrupted "Would yah mind if Ah'll deal with this deliv'ry?"

"...Sure." the Doctor replied, after a short pause "He's your engine now. Princesses' orders!"

Soon enough, the cowmare and the goods diesel set off to the orchard. They couldn't approach from it's entrance, naturally, so, they went around it... Behind the orchard, the landscape turned hilly, as it was getting closes to the tall mountains in the distance... Pine forests grew around here, and a double rail line run up the incline. At the rear limits of the orchard, a cutting was made into the suddenly steep slope. The cutting was wide, it's bottom covered with powdered stone and ballast. The two lines went on, and, after a long detour, joined the mainline somewhere further. But where the orchard was closest to the line, a small yard was set up. It wasn't much, three long sidings added to the two lines, one next to the orchard's fencing, the other two, closer to the hill, with a tall pine forest looming over it at one side.

When Applejack and Spamcan arrived, they were surprised to see the little yard set up for them. It was filled with vans, and Diesel and Twilight were busy shunting them. The Class 08 then noticed them.

"Well, you certainly took your time!" he snapped at them, before resuming his indifferent look "We'll soon wrap this up, and shunt your train to the siding near the orchard. You wait there." and with that, he returned to his work.

Applejack climbed out from the cab, switched the points to the siding, then ran back to the the engine. Then, they quickly rolled onto the siding, stopping beside the orchard's gates.

"Ah still don' know what all this fuss is about..." Granny Smith muttered in a shaky voice, as Big Macintosh and Apple Bloom separated the various kinds of apples in to stacks of crates.

"It's simple!" Apple Bloom replied "We gotta organize the diff'rent kind of apples into diff'rent crates. This load IS going to Canterlot!"

"Eeeyup." Big Macintosh added, carefully placing a crate on top of a tall stack. Or at least he would've, if a booming horn wouldn't have scared him half to death.

"Damn, that's loud!" Applejack cursed. Spamcan only smirked.

"I 'no'. I pers'nally asked 'em t' replace my no'mal 'orn wi'h a ferry's, whe' i' bro'e."

"No kiddin'." Applejack muttered, stepping out of the cab.

"Applejack!" her sister cheered, running up to her "Yah came back!" and she gave her a mighty hug. Applejack only smiled, and hugged back, as Wiona and Big Mac run up to her as well, followed by the slowly trotting Granny Smith.

"So, how was work?" the senior work pony asked.

"It was fine. Easy, even..." Applejack replied, before adding with a chuckle "Once you get pass the shed doors...

Spamcan joined her in chuckling. This made the ponies finally notice him.

"Oh my gosh!" Applebloom gasped "Is that your engine, Applejack?"

"Th' one an' o'ly." the diesel replied, smirking. The young Apple just stared. Wiona ran around the engine, sniffing the bogies. She began to lower her rear next to one, but the engine snapped at her.

"Don' even THIN' 'bou' i'!" he barked. Obediently, the herding dog backed away...

"He sure is large." Big Mac muttered, examining the engine.

"Look 'ho's talkin'!" Spamcan replied.

"Owl callin' the sparrow a big-head." the stallion retorted.

"...Fair 'nuf'."

"Ever'pony, sorry, ever'one..." the orange mare spoke up "Ah'd like ya'll to meet D199. He was mah trainer, an' yokemate during mah session, an' Ah've been given the responsibility to be his permanent driver, and help him out with his work, WHEN an' IF Ah can come to the railway."

"Also, dis mea's I ca' com' 'ere, an' 'elp ou' wi'h yer deliv'ries." the diesel added "An' call me Spamcan... All o' my... Eh... Palls do."
"Nice to meet ya!" Apple Bloom greeted him politely "I'm Apple Bloom."

"Li'ewise." Spamcan replied with a smile.

"I'm Big Macintosh." the red stallion spoke "Pleased to meet ya." and he reached out with a hoof, to grab one of the engine's buffers.

"Sorry lad." the diesel smirked "Tha' thin' w'uldn't budge. I's no' s'ppose' to. Anyways, ya mus' be th' all aroun' ladies' stud 'ere." he went on with a smirk. A slight blush appeared on the stallion's face, before he chuckled full heartedly, dismissively shaking his hoof.

"Oh no. Ah'm far to busy for that!" he muttered bashfully.

"Too busy?" Applejack snickered "More like too shy! Not even Fluttershy is as awkward as ya when it comes to speakin' with the opposite gender!"

As Big Macintosh continued to blush deeper, looking away sheepishly, Granny Smith trotted up to the engine.

"Hmmmm... A bit dirty he is..." she muttered, running a hoof over Spamcan's buffer plate, and wiping the grime off from her hoof on the ground "He seems to be in good shape..." she added, examing the diesel's teeth, pulling his lips aside. "Ah say, he'll be a mighty good help in Sweet Apple Acres."

"But Granny Smith!" Apple Bloom explained "Spamcan can't help in the orchard. He's a train, he can't go where the rails don' go!"

"Well said." the engine muttered "But actu'lly, I'm no' a trai'. I'm jus' th' eng'ne, o' loc'motiv'. "

"What? But locomotives can't speak!" the elderly pony exclaimed.

"I' turns ou' dey ca'." Spamcan smirked again.

"Ya'r pretty odd for an engine, if yah don't mind me sayin'..." Big Mac muttered "And that Diesel fellow as well."

"Tha's b'cuz' we'e DIESEL eng'nes. No' steam eng'nes tha' yer prob'ly use' to. We run on oil, no' coal an' wa'er."

"Wait..." Apple Bloom muttered "So... Diesel is a diesel engine, and he's called..."

"Diesel. Yeah. No' re'lly creati'e, is i'?" Spamcan sneered. Tne others just stared, bemused.

Then, the above named shunter began to move the now organized train onto the same siding. Spamcan looked forward.

"Guess I'll be takin' th' trai' bum fi'st again."

The next second, Diesel slammed the train into his buffers.

"Ow."

After a while, the vans were fully loaded, thanks to the combined work of the Apples, while Diesel arranged the remaining vans onto the two other sidings. The headcode - 4C31 - was set, and the train was ready to depart. Well, almost...

"What do yah mean ya're comin'?" Applejack blurted out, his family members standing in front of her.

"We'll hav' to make sure the apples arrive safely. This IS Canterlot we're talkin' 'bout. We shouldn't upset the Princesses."

"Especially Princess Luna, right, big brother?" Apple Bloom asked, poking the stallion's side with her elbow, making him blush and look away again.

"Yah may be a goods engine..." Granny Smith went on "But that doesn't means ya're a GOOD engine as well. We'll come with yah to see how yah deal with this deliv'ry of crucial importance." then, she modestly added "Well, crucially important for us. We'll have to make an impression!"

"...OK. Soun's fair 'nuf'." Spamcan replied.

"But we can' go yet!" Apple Bloom exclaimed.

"Why not?" the other's asked, surprised. The youngest Apple pointed at the diesel.

"We can' make the deliv'ry with such a dirty engine! We ought'a clean him down first!"

"Wha'?" muttered D199.

"Yar right as rain, Apple Bloom!" Granny Smith smiled "Let's get the cleanin' equipment. Big Mac!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Big Macinthos replied, and the three trotted of quickly.

"...Bu' I don' wan' t' be cle'n'd." Spamcan muttered miserably, before a heavy frown came onto his face.

"Bugge'!" he cursed.

"It's alrigh', sugahcab!" Applejack smiled "We'll get yah spic an' spam quickly as possible, and then we'll set of to Canterlot."

"Bu' I told ya, I don' WANT t' be cle'n'd!" the diesel huffed "Th' las' thin' I wan' t' be is a loo'-a-li'e t' tha' posh twa', Stu'k-Up!"

"Why would yah look like him, sug?" the mare asked.

"Ya'll see i', once ya wash me down!" the engine snapped "I don' 'no' wha' all dis fuss is 'bou', anyways! Th' Princesses the'sel'es alrea'y saw me in my full "glory"! So, wha' th' poin' i' cle'nin' me?"

"That may be, Spamcan, but we can't just show up like this!"

"Applejack." the diesel muttered "We did. ON TH' VERY FI'ST BLOODY DAY!"

"Now, there's no need to be angry!" the cowmare frowned.

"No nee' t' be angry?" Spamcan spluttered "I'm goin' t' be scrubbe' down ag'ins' my will! Tha's at LEAS' se'sual molestation!"

"No, it ain't!" the earth pony retorted with a slight blush.

"Yes, i' is!" the Class 46 sniffed.

"No, it isn't!"

"I' is!"

"It isn't!"

"I' IS!"

"It ISN'T!"

"SHUT THE BLOODY HELL UP!!!" Diesel shouted from the siding "Or do you want me to slam the rest of these trucks into your SIDE?!"

"...Nope." came the mare and the engine's distraught, meek reply.

There was a long pause afterwards.

"Ya 'no' wha'? Am bo'ed." Spamcan muttered.

"Yeah. Ah should've gone too." Applejack replied. The engine thought hard.

"'ey, I' yer int'rest'd, dere's a radio an' sum' CD's i' my cab."

"Radio? Yah mean, like a music player?"

"Yeah, an' sum' CDs. Che' benea' th' control panel."

And so she did.

To her surprise, she found a patchwork stereo system, with first-class sub-woofers, and several stacks of CDs, all neatly packed on top, in specially made shelves.

That, of course, didn't helped the fact that the mare had never seen a Compact Disc before.

"What are these?" she asked.

"CDs. Th' music's all on 'em." came the reply.

"Oh, so are they like records?"

"Uhhh... Yeah, jus' mor' compact." the goods engine replied. Only now it has occurred to him that the ponies may not know about modern entertainment equipment.

"What are we goin' to listen to?" the mare asked.

"Pi' ou' one tha' ya thin' ya'll li'e, an' pu' i' in."

"Alrighty then..." Applejack muttered, and picked up a flat box from one of the selves, examining it.

It had an odd label, to be honest.

It was completely red, fading to black around the edges, with a yellow, five-pointed star in the middle, yellow beams extending from it's concave angles. On the star, there was a hammer and sickle, both superimposed and silver gray. It reminded her of something, but she couldn't quite put her hoof on it.

The title was also silver gray and metal-printed, reading: "COMMAND & CONQUER", with the under title being "RED ALERT", painted in ruby red.

There was also another under title, black with white edges, this one looked like it was harshly painted on with a brush, with a weird, Cyrillic-esque font, reading: "from ONE, THROUGH, THREE!"

"Huh... That's weird..." the farmer pony muttered, and carefully pried the box open with her hooves. Inside, she found a small plastic disc, thin as parchment, silver colored, with a transparent inside, the center cut out, leaving perfect, circle-shaped hole...

"Odd..." she muttered, before glancing at the stereo system. She soon found what she was searching for: a slit-like opening with a set of buttons under it. Carefully, holding the disk on the thinner edges with her two hooves, she placed into the opening, then gently pushed it in. She then gazed at the buttons, and soon found one that read "play".

Pressing it, she leaned back, and waited for the music to start.

Out of curiosity, Spamcan asked:

"Wha' disk di' ya choose?"

Then, it started.

"Uh oh..."

Applejack WAS surprised.

For a tune, it started mighty strangely.

She could hear marching. Intense marching, while an deep electric guitar riff lurked around in the background. The music seemed to be building around the rhythm of the march. Soon, percussion and more guitars joined in, making the music more lively... And more violent.

"Die Waffen, legt an!"

The tone went full blast, maximum overdrive. The rhythm remained, but the sound was bestial.

She was pretty sure it was army music, though not any type she had heard before. It was one hell of a march. The woofer banged loudly, so loud, she could feel the entire engine resonate...

It wasn't her kind of music, in fact, she never liked military tunes. But this just took her.

The resonance traveled down the rails, carrying the sound. It reached the yards, and echoed from every empty space located on the rails. Every truck, every coach, even the engines' cab pulsed with the heavy march.

Diesel stopped, and glanced at Spamcan. The big engine was lost for words, eyes closed, mouth shut, as he just listened to the music. Diesel himself said nothing as well, just stopped, taken by the militant beat.

Twilight poked her head out from his cab, mesmerized by the sound, and just kept staring at Spamcan. She wasn't a fan of war music, but the might of this one caught her in a trance-like state. All around Ponyville, the mares and stallions, fillies and colts stopped dead in their tracks, as the tune rocked on, the might of a Superpower on their shoulders, capturing their minds and hearts.

So many hearts, beating at once.

"Die Waffen, legt an!"

The tone changed, speeding up.

"Die Waffen, legt an!"

From heavy metal march... To technological trauma...

"DIE WAFFEN, LEGT AN!"

It still kept it's majestic might, it's force, it's power... The sound poured over the land like a tidal wave.

Going through the orchard, Big Mac heard the sound... Surprised, he stopped. But the sound forced him, so he continued, his trotting becoming more and more like marching. His eyes narrowed, as he pushed his chest out. The peaceful stallion felt ready for battle, ready for war, as he stomped on, hoofs thumping loudly...

The music died down the way it rose up: reduced to marching, with the megaphone voice repeating it's line, again and again:

"Die Waffen, legt an!"

Finally, after some time, it died down completely...

Applejack sat in silence, still comprehending the "music" she had heard. Repetitive and militant as it was, she was still left awestruck by it. She never felt such force coming from a tune, and she had listened to classical music before, which she believed to be the most awe-inspiring so far. THIS just beat everything.

"Can't believe you still kept that stuff!" Diesel snorted, trying to cover his awe.

"What was that?" Twilight blurted out, her trance finally broken.

"Meh. Just a theme for an old computer game." the shunter replied, reluctant.

"A... Game?!" the unicorn was speechless.

"Sug... What was that?" Applejack muttered. Spamcan found it hard to explain.

"Well..." he began "Dere wa' once a gre' superpowe' in ou' wo'l', called th' Soviet Union. I' wa' a gre' force which wa' based on th' ideology of communism an' socialism, na'ura'ly, i' didn' re'lly keep up t' tha', an' I eventu'lly collapsed, bu' i's memory live' on. I' reappeared i' many games, an' one o' 'em was th' game "Command & Conquer: Red Alert". Ya 'no', 'cuz' i's flag was comple'ly red, wi'h a yello' 'amme' an' sic'e on i'. Also, th' Re' Sta' was one i's well-'no'n symbols. Wha' ya 'ear' was a theme son' fo' i's game counterpart.

Applejack turned it's box around, the back decorated in a similar fashion as the front, the songs listed up, not with numbers, but with the letters of the Cyrillic (for her, Stalliongradian) alphabet.

Number... 'A' was titled "Hell March 1".

"No kiddin'..." she muttered.

Just then, track Б, "Hell March 2" began, sounding even more alien than the first one.

Voices came from the orchard.

"Qui'! Turn th' bl'udy thin' off!" Spamcan muttered hastily. Hurrying, the mare did so, turning the stereo off, just as Apple Bloom ran out from the orchard.

"Applejack!" she cried "Applejack, did ya heard that?!"

"Heard what?" the orange pony asked, as her sister jumped into the cab.

"Ther' was some strange music playing all over town! I bet they heard it in the train yard as well!"

Applejack gulped.

"Re-really?" she muttered, starting to sweat. Spamcan winced.

"Yeah! It was very odd!"

"Sorta' like military music!" Big Macintosh added, putting the equipment down, a large hose snaking behind him, disappearing into the orchard.

The goods engine and the mare glanced at their companions. Twilight just stared into the air, still looking bemused. Diesel, on the other hand, was smirking deviously, his eyes half closed with a content frown - but said nothing, he just reversed, going back to his work.

"Well, the tools are here." Granny Smith huffed, finally arriving at the scene "Let's git that engine cleaned!"

"Oooh nooo, oh no ya don't!" Spamcan protested, but couldn't move. His motor had been turned off, and his brakes were hard on. He couldn't escape.

"Don' ya dare!" he hissed, as Applejack raised the hose.

"Don' worry, sugahcab." Applejack smiled, before her face took up a nefarious look, her smile turning into a mordant smirk "Nopony will hear yer screams..."

That didn't stop the diesel from trying...

"HAAAAAALP! RAPE! RAAPE!" he shouted, as the first sponge touched him.

"Oh, be quiet, yah!" Granny Smith muttered, scrubbing the sooty roof of the engine "Celestia almighty! I've nevah seen so much dirt! When was your last wash-down?"

Spamcan stopped shouting, and thought back.

"Now? Exac'ly thir'y ye'rs, t'ree months, t'o wee's, fiv' days, se'en 'ours, fi'ty minutes an' twelve se'onds ago."

The ponies stopped, partly because they were surprised by the engine's precision, and partly because they were horrified about the amount of dirt that must have accumulated on him.

"If ya don' coun' th' rai'falls." the diesel added.

"This calls for heavy artillery!" Big Mac declared. One by one, the members of the family whipped out rough sponges, loofahs, and dressed up in Haz-Mat suit, complete with helms, while the stallion pulled out a water cannon from the bushes.

The goods engine's eyes went super wide.

"Ms. Sparkle, could yah lend a hoof?" Granny Smith asked, clad in cleaning armor.

"Of course!" Twilight replied smoothly, the same devious look spreading over her face, matching that of Diesel's...

In half an hour, Spamcan was completely scrubbed clean, even shaved - leaving only a "soul spot" above his chin.

His dark Rail Blue color shone, his yellow hazard panels never been so bright, along with his hub covers and the white, crooked BR symbol on his middle, dark gray roof bright as a pin, his buffer plates bright red again, round buffers painted dull black, looking good as new. The only thing left was the middle window of his cab, still cracked. In a flash, Twilight fixed it, the engine now complete, even waxed, with some gel on his eyebrows, the bags no longer present under his eyes, but a heavy frown remained persistent.

"There." the lavender unicorn sighed, tired after such vast use of magic. Finally, what seemed like an eternity, Spamcan was done, spic and... Spam...

"Thi' is embarrasin'..." he muttered darkly.

"Nonsense!" Twilight smiled "You look spot on!"

"E'zac'ly my poin'!" the engine barked back.

"Well, I'm glad it's done..." Applejack muttered, and looked over the engine "Gee-wizz, Spamcan! You look... Top-notch! Just... Dand-!"

"DON' SAY I'!" the engine growled, making the Apples take aback.

"He sure is a grump, isn't he?" Granny Smith muttered.

"Eeyup." Big Macinthos replied.

"Ca' we' ge' a mov' on?!" D199 grumbled "I wanna be don' wi'h dis an' ou' o' sigh' as soo' as possible!"

"Right, right!" Applejack replied, helping the elderly Apple up into the cab. Soon, all them were in. The cab wasn't very roomy, but they fit in quite easily.

"Alright! All aboard, ever'pony!" Applejack cheered "Next stop: Canterlot Central, Freight Yards!"

"Oh, can Ah pull the horn?" Apple Bloom asked, enthusiastically.

"That's not me to decide." her sister replied calmly "Spamcan?"

"Please, Mr. Spamcan, can I?" the filly went on, making the most adorable puppy-eyes. Sadly, all that effort went completely to waste, as she was trying to manipulate the control panel.

Still, the diesel chuckled.

"Sur', kid. I dare ya!" he snickered.

Gleefully, Apple Bloom pulled the horn's crank with all her might...

A thundering blare swept across the yard!

The smallest Apple tumbled back, dazed and surprised.

"That's loud..." she muttered.

"Too loud..." Big Mac grunted.

"Sounds like a ferry to me." Granny Smith put in, massaging her ears.

"Tha's e'zac'ly th' poin'." the diesel smirked, and revved his engine, as Applejack started him off, pulling the many vans with ease, rolling down the slope.

Once they arrived to yards, the diesel was disconnected from the train, and went around, the family inside him going over to the other cab. Canterlot was in the other direction, so Spamcan was able to look forward, and see what's in front of him.

He was then reconnected, and was ready to go, but had to wait for another train to arrive.

"What could that be?" Apple Bloom asked, impatiently "What can be more important, than the Princesses' delivery of apples?"

"Celestia's deliv'ry o' bananas?" the engine asked mordantly, making everyone in the cab - pass Apple Bloom, who remained puzzled - blush heavily, and avert their eyes from each other.

Just then, a sonorous, nasal-sounding horn blasted through the air.

"Oh BUGGE'!" Spamcan cursed, as the other train rolled into the station, stopping beside the passenger platform. It was Old Stuck-Up, the arrogant, the posh, the Chief Express engine of the Other Railway, his Azure Rail Blue color shining in the setting sun, his lamps, re-positioned lower because of his face, shining brightly, his pallid silver gray roof soaking up the disappearing rays of the sun. He stopped with a gentle hiss of his air brakes, his Double Arrow symbol with elongated horizontal lines in bright white for everyone to see... He glanced around, his bright, hazard yellow face expressing superiority and conceit.

That was, until he saw Spamcan, the latter's re-positioned lamps turned on as well, as he glared forward, purposely not looking in his loathed college's direction.

"Why... Spamcan..." the express engine muttered on his posh voice, looking rather amused "I've... I didn't expect you to, eheh, dress out like that..."

"Well... I wasn' MY idea..." the goods engine grunted in reply "Bu' ya 'no'... Ya go'a lo' nice fo' th' royalty..."

"Oh, so you're visiting the Princesses?" Stuck-Up was suddenly interested.

"Dis load o' apple's goin' t' 'em." the other diesel grumbled back "I still don' ge' wha' all th' fuss is 'bou'. I's no' li'e dey're gonna visi' th' freigh' ya'ds RIGH' DIS NIGH' t' inspect wor', ya 'no'."

"Well, you never know..." the snooty engine replied, smirking "But I'll have to admit, you look spot-on! Not like ME, of course, you're definitely different, but... It's not like we're the same, Spamcan..." he muttered soothingly, after the goods engine shot him a death glare "You SHOULD clean yourself more often, laddie..." the express engine smiled nobly, before he added with ha wink "I bet the ladies will be climbing over you, once you roll down that line!"

That finally broke the ice, as Spamcan glanced over to his snooty comrade, giving a thankful look and a content smirk...

A few minutes earlier, back in the small yard behind Sweet Apple Acres:

"MOVE, DAMN YOU!" Diesel cursed, as he bashed into the line of old vans in front of him again, to no avail, as the aging trucks' brakes were jammed hard on, blocking the siding.

"Bastards!" the shunter yelled, and reared back for another go "I'll give you ONE. LAST. CHANCE! You either move, or you're firewood!"

Wiona, who remained at the farm to guard it, barked furiously.

"OH SHUT UP, YOU TYKE! I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!" he shouted across the yard, his engine roaring furiously, as the trucks continued to jeer and laugh at him.

"CALM THE HAY DOWN, DIESEL!" Twilight snapped at him "Violence would get us nowhere! Remember what Reinstein said..."

"REINSTEIN?!" a truck burst out, the others guffawing on his lead "WHA'S THA'?! EINSTEIN COMBINED WITH GERMAN INDUSTRIAL METAL?! WHAT A KNOCK-OFF!!!" and they all burst out in snickers, cackles and giggles, shouting their variations for the name of the father of Theory of Relativity (and his pony counterpart).

THAT was a big mistake.

With an expression that looked like her face froze before she could complete a glare, Twilight spoke very punctually to the shunter.

"Diesel. I'm going to release your brakes now. You'll give those mudslinging detractors the hardest shove you ever done, and I'LL set them on fire. Got that?"

Diesel made a serious face, as he revved his engine.

"Gotcha!"

The next second, he shot out, giving an ALMIGHTY biff to the trucks, while the lavender unicorn's horn flared with her purple aura, the roof of the punk, old trucks catching on fire...

Unfortunately, the biff wasn't enough to smash them to pieces, or derail them, but it was strong enough to send them flying down the line, screaming in pain and terror, disappearing towards the yards...

Both mare and diesel could only utter with a petrified look frozen on their faces:

"Crap..."

The trucks rocketed down the line, slipping into the yards, careering through many switches and sidings, before they ended up on Spamcan's line.

Neither the engine, nor the Apples could believe what they were seeing. All they saw was burning van coming straight towards them, then everything went dark.

The first van hit Spamcan in the face, buffers breaking off, it's side collapsing. The crash was strong enough to put out the fire on that one truck, but the others were still ablaze.

"Dear Lord!" Stuck-Up exclaimed.

"AAAAARGH!" Spamcan screamed, as burned planks hit his face. Inside, the Apple family had ducked clear, just as large plank hit the middle window, cracking it again. As Applejack jumped off the seat, she accidentally knocked the brakes loose. The reverser was already set forward, and, subconsciously, she had set the throttle on full charge, when he saw the vans.
With a hiss of his brakes, and a roar of his engine, D199, stuck between his own train and a line of burning vans, slowly began to move forward, gaining speed, and disappearing out of the yard before anyone could do anything...

"Well... This isn't good..." Stuck-Up muttered, as Diesel and Twilight charged in.

"WHERE ARE THE VANS?!" they both shouted.

"Oh. Those. Spamcan just took them." the express engine replied simply, while thinking: "To the face."

"WHAT?! Where?!" Twilight exclaimed.

"I don't know..." came the reply "They just smashed into him, all on fire, and he shot off." and, after a short pause, he added "He was heading to Canterlot!"

"SHIT!!!"

Spamcan sped down the line at full speed. He lost the burning trucks in one bend, where they all derailed and were smashed into pieces in a ditch near the line, but the last van was still stuck on his face. He was going so fast, he sped past every control point before any action could be taken to stop him. He was steadily on his way to Canterlot.

The Princesses HAVE chosen that exact night to visit the freight yards, no sooner than sunset. They were in the main shed, when suddenly, the alarm went off. The two alicorns exchanged surprised glances, as the workponies rushed around them in a hurry. But all stopped when a thunderous crash echoed around the yard.

Smashing to the iron door of the large cargo shed, came a small freight train, with a diesel pulling several vans, and... Pushing... A burnt one...

The cavalcade sped past the two celestial sisters - it was only then that Applejack had realized what she had to do. Jumping back into the seat, she pulled the throttle back, put the reverser in neutral, and set the brakes on.

Screeching loudly, the train skidded down the tracks, getting closer and closer to the concrete-supported buffers.

The old truck BURST in to smithereens as it collided with the buffer stop, it's parts flying everywhere, as Spamcan finally came to a stop, the disappearing momentum making him jolt back, as he gently reached the buffers with a dainty clank.

As he finally stopped, he let out an exasperated sigh, his engine revving up, and blowing out pillars of smoke through his exhaust.

The vans behind him also sighed in relief.

As the workponies ran up to the train to check for any damage, the dizzy and disoriented Apple family climbed out the cab, with Big Macintosh vigorously kissing the concrete platform with infatuation not different from a desperate kind of love, before collapsing out of exhaustion, just as Princess Luna arrived in front of him.

"My dear ponies!" she gasped, leaning down, her muzzle awfully close to Big Mac's "Are you alright?"

Instantly, the stallion shot back up, trying to put on his placid face again, nervously chewing on his now broken thread of grass.

"Princess... An honor to meet ya again..." Apple Bloom muttered, staggering around "Could you make the world stop spinning?"

"Ehehee!" Granny Smith cheered "That was SOME ride, my dear Princess!" she talked to Celestia "It was mighty clever of ya to employ these new-fangled deisel engines!"

The white alicorn could only blink, before she turned her head to the nearest "deisel" present.

"199!" she snapped "What is the meaning of this?!"

Even after a near-death experiment, Spamcan STILL had the ball bearings to talk back:

"Wha'? YOU orde'd th" damn apples, no' me!"

The princess was about to reply, when an odd sound hit her ears...

It sounded like marching, with some musical background, electric guitar riffs, to be specific.

It came straight from Spamcan's cab.

The goods engine and orange cowmare exchanged desperate looks, and cursed out, as the music kicked into full swing.

"AW FBU--!!!"

"DIE WAFFEN, LEGT AN!"

Episode 3 - Enterprising Mare(s)

ENTERPRISING MARE(S)

PART ONE

"Oh, COME ON! Where IS that driver?! I should be getting ready for my morning run!"

The voice saying those very sentences was extremely posh and blustering, though not speaking as carefully as your stereotypical upperclass would - clearly, it's owner was either a working class Tory (*cough*Norman Tebbit*cough*), or something similar: a working class person turned upperclass (like a good few years ago).

And in our case, the latter was true.

For the owner of the haughty voice was the arrogant engine number 40125, his name being Sir Alaric English Electric. Most of his colleagues simply called him Old Stuck-Up, so that they won't have to say his full name, and to avoid the embarrassment when jumbling up the words 'Sir Ara...' 'Sil Ala...' 'Si Rala...' 'Sir Ulrich...' 'SIR ALARIC!!!' (God, that was embarrassing!).

Anyways, Sir Al... Old Stuck-Up was resting in a shed with his "retinue", now consisting of Philippa & Emma, the Class 43/II High Speed Twins. Together (and with some coaches), these two girls made up one InterCity 125 set. They were indeed High-Speed trains, capable of running over 126 miles per hour with ease, even when full. For this, however, they still haven't been granted the privilege of pulling the Express. They didn't mind, though, as they preferred commuter and shuttle work over the snooty and few and far between express runs - they were from a generation of newer diesels that still tried to prove their worth, and be very useful. And also, that was Stuck-Up's job.

He was main express engine of the Other Railway, now the main express engine on their section of Equestrian Rail: the Manehattan-Canterlot route.

This snooty engine was, initially, outraged to find out that he had been transferred from his home world (Britain, Earth) to Equestria, but, after a little while, he figured out that living in a world of ponies and other beings was better than being the slave of his own creators, the many times accursed humans.

And indeed, the equines treated them better, locomotives and rolling stock alike.

However, that didn't changed the arrogant diesel's attitude.

"Now just WHERE IS that stupid mule?!" he now burst out.

"Stuck-Up!" Pip snapped at him "That is NO way of talking about our caretakers!"

"Oh, SHUT it!" the express engine hissed "Who are you? My mother? I have the right to make indignant complaints, you know! Driver should be here by now! So what IS that horse doing?"

"Sleeping." Emma muttered, matter-of-factually "Or working somewhere else."

"WORKING SOMEWHERE ELSE?!" Stuck-Up boomed "He's MY DRIVER! He shouldn't be working somewhere else, he should be working here, preparing me for my morning express!"

"Prepare? We're DIESELS, for cryin' out loud, all we need is short check-up and refill, and we're ready to go!" Pip argued.

"For you COMMONERS, that may be!" the express engine grunted "But for such an important, high-standard locomotive like ME, preparations must be done delicately!"

"More like daintily!" Emma groaned "Anyways, the reason why your driver isn't here because it's your turn to train a newbie!"

"AND!" Pip added "If the rumors going around are true, he or she'll be your official driver if the training is successful!"

"Oh. Right..." the engine groaned, grudgingly. He really wished there would be others to talk to, as conversation with the railway's Token Girls was proven to be increasingly annoying. But there was no chance, the others had already left, and also...

"They're probably searching for us, too." Pip muttered "PERHAPS, it wasn't such a good idea to sleep separately."

Last night, there was a heated argument between passenger and freight engines, which resulted in the two groups going to different sheds - Old Stuck-Up, Bowler, Pip & Emma, and Cromwell slept in the yard's smaller shed with a transfer table, while Diesel, Spamcan, and the Ironwork Bros, Iron 'Arry and Iron Bert slept in the carriage works a few miles up the line. The yard workers and the designated drivers, including Twilight Sparkle, Applejack and Pinkie Pie, had been informed about the quarrel, and came prepared the next morning.

The only engines left in the main shed were BoZo, Derek, the Brakefather, and Steamie.

Next morning, the shed was found nearly empty. NEARLY.

The floor and the rails were littered with machine parts and pieces of thorn metal, motor oil and diesel fuel splattered all over the walls and the support beams, gathering in puddles on the ground, some dripping from splodges on the ceiling, the windows darkened with soot, giving the building an eerie dim atmosphere.

And in the corners were the obliterated bodies of the engines, completely and utterly destroyed, mutilated, with pain and terror frozen on their faces.

And in the middle berth, back, right in front of the buffers, was Steamie, covered in the mechanical gore that left a sour smell lingering around in the shed, his small body illuminated by the only source of light, as lamps were busted: the opening of a vent, with the fan spinning lazily in it, as the tank engine made quick paced moves, back and forth, back and forth, wheeshing red tinted steam, and cackling madly, a maniacal grin frozen on his mouth, under his widely open, blind-looking eyes.

There was a small, repetitive thud coming from his cab.

If one would've looked inside, they would of found the body Pinkamena Diane Pie, suspended in a catatonic state, but still alive, her eyes staring upwards blankly, as she was slowly covered in the crimson vapors pouring out from the firebo--...

Wait.

WHAT THE FUCK?!

THIS isn't the script!

I didn't even wrote this stuff! YEEUCK!

Who the hell...?

. . . . . . .

DIESEL!

YOU CUNT!

Anyways....

The door of the shed suddenly opened.

Spike came in, wearing his blacksmith apron as a work suit, with a tiny orange high-visibility vest above it, his head spikes covered by the brown cap of a fitter. He was followed by to two workcolts, who quickly trotted up to Pip & Emma. Spike, on the other hand, went straight towards the express engine.

"Morning, Stuck-Up!" he greeted him cheerily. The diesel just huffed, and rolled his eyes, replying:

"That's SIR Stuck-Up to you!" he grunted "Anyways... Are you going to be my driver from now on?"

"What? No, of course not!" the dragon replied, oiling his bogies "I'm just your fitter. But I AM taking you to your trainee driver!"

"Oh, good." the engine sighed "Who is it going to be, by the way?"

"Beats me." came the answer "But we're soon to find out."

He climbed into Stuck-Up's cab - so did the two colts into the High Speed Twins' cabs - and, one by one, they rolled onto the transfer table, each set on their own route, with the twins going for the carriage works - back to back - to pick up their coaches for the morning shuttle run, while the snooty Class 40 set out to the station.

Once arriving, he, and his momentary driver found it empty, devoid of life, aside from a few sleepy porters. He stopped beside platform No.1 - there were only four platforms, as Ponyville itself wasn't such an important town, but the marshaling yard, and the fact it was a transfer point between international routes made it turned it's station to an establishment of the highest importance.

The dragon got out, and went around the engine, giving him a more thorough overlook.

As he proceeded, clops could be heard on the platform. Spike was too busy to look, but Stuck-Up was keeping an eye out. Soon, he saw the source of the noise - and was all smiles all of sudden.

Trotting down the platform was a pure white unicorn mare with indigo-violet mane and tail ironed curly, followed by a smaller, younger unicorn filly, her fur a damper white, her mane and tail also curled, but with a more natural shape, colored lavender-thistle. They trotted up directly to the azure Rail Blue engine - tranquil and refined was the older's movement, determined and spunky was the younger's.

As they got closer, Stuck-Up could even make out the mare's cutie mark: three sapphire-colored diamonds. The younger one's flanks were empty. Blank. In her young age, she was yet to discover her special talent.

They stopped, a mere two meters from his front, a two pair of eyes, one blue and one green, set on his yellow front, as he smiled warmly at them, and called out to the young fitter:

"Spike! Come and meet the trainees!"

Following his call, the baby dragon climbed up onto the platform beside him, his face and claws partially covered in grease, blackened by dirt, some even covering his vest.

"Oh, my goodness! Spike!" Rarity exclaimed, and quickly whipped out a handkerchief - hoofkerchief - from her saddlebag, quickly trotting to the dragon, who was still huffing from climbing onto the platform.

"Hey, Spike!" Sweetie Belle greeted him, walking closer to the engine, and looking at him "And good morning to you, Mister, errr... 40125?" she asked, hoping that she remembered the digits right, before she noticed it was painted on his side, and read it up. They weren't even using such long numbers in school!

She registered it with relief, when the big locomotive chuckled, his smile remaining, as he glanced at her through his large monocle.

Meanwhile, Rarity was busy rubbing off whatever she could from the used petroleum derivative stains on her scaly friend. In the same time, Spike was in a sort of love-struck trance, his eyes not focusing with a goofy smile on his face, as he let the ivory mare wipe him, standing awfully close, with that adorable, duck-face pout on his lips, her eyes gleaming as she concentrated hard on getting the splodges off. Finally, with an exasperated sigh, she gave up, and retreated with the hankie, now also covered in the oily substance.

"Oh, it's no good, Spikey!" she muttered "I can't seem to get it out from your scales!"

This snapped him out of his trance.

"Oh! Never mind, Rarity! I'll wash it off later! B'sides, I doubt this'll be the ONLY dirt I'll have to wash off tonight, I AM a fitter, after all..." he added with a sarcastic smirk.

"Oh." the unicorn replied, a bit bemused "Alright." she then smiled "I guess it's only fitting for you to keep the splodges. Hmph. Workmen." she added with pseudo-disparaging tone "Always trying to get dirty!"

Spike only chuckled.

"Ah-Alright. But I think you also have a job to complete. Well, more like a session, but..."

"Ah, yeees!" Rarity exclaimed, and galloped back to the front of the engine, the dragon following her.

"There you are!" Stuck-Up sniffed, now grown a bit bored and offended that Rarity completely ignored him. Sweetie Belle was, at LEAST, polite and respectful enough to properly greet him, even if the little filly didn't know his name. No surprise there, though, it IS a long name, he had to admit, although, he knew longer ones. But, the young pony was still quite shy.

The diesel expected her to start a conversation instantly, but it seemed he misjudged her - he was either shy, or couldn't find the words to start. Again, he wasn't surprised, he doubted the young equine had ever saw a proper, DIESEL locomotive before - he wouldn't been surprised if she was just mesmerized by his looks. Naturally, the equine society was DEFINITELY not the target he hooped for in questions of affectionate admiration, but that, of course, didn't helped the fact that he was, all in all, a dashingly good lookin' fellow - or at least he thought so.

"Done with your love affairs, luv'?" he asked, sarcastically, making both mare and dragon blush heavily, while the filly giggled.

"Y-Yes... Quite..." Rarity muttered, before she shook her head slightly, and smiled "Pleasant good morning, Sir Alaric!"

This made the engine smile his brightest smile yet - for the first time in decades, somebody talked to him properly! This mare just might turn out to be the driver of his dreams!

"...Alaric?" Sweetie Belle asked "You said they called him 'Old Stuck-Up'."

As Spike burst out laughing, and Rarity smiled with embarrassment, the now frowning Stuck-Up just sighed.

"That's just a... SOBRIQUET my colleagues gave me." he explained to the filly.

"Oooooh!" she replied "What's a "sobriquet"? - she asked."

"Sort of like an offensive nickname." Rarity explained "Like when Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon calls you a 'Blankflank'."

"Oh." Sweetie Belle said with a frown, before she looked at the engine with sincere guilt.

"I'm sorry, Mist--, I mean, Sir Ara... Sil Ala... SiR ALaric!" she spoke, with great difficulty. It reminded Stuck-Up of the slurred speech of a certain steam engine, an old, mooching "friend" of them on the Other Railway, converted into an alcohol-powered one for a parody series, then left on the dry with strong alcoholism, and great powers. He often wondered what happened to the bad blooded - or more likely, bad fueled - drunkard of a chum they all loved to hate and hated to love. But, to compare their long-lost socially challenged drinking friend with the innocent little filly before him... The mere grotesqueness of the idea made him laugh.

"You can call me Stuck-Up, lassie." he snickered "But, I haven't been properly introduced. Spike, be a good chap, and...!"

"Right, right..." the dragon interrupted him, rolling his eyes, before clearing his throat, and continuing in a presenting tone:

"Mares and... Mares, I'd like you all... You two to meed Sir Alaric English Electric, chief express passenger locomotive of the Other Railway!" and then, sardonically, he added, waving his hand in a dismissive manner "But we all call him Old Stuck-Up..."

"Why, though?" Rarity asked, then instantly regretted the question.

"'Cause he's one big box of hot air and arrogance!" he replied with a smirk "Though, Doctor Whooves calls him by his number, 40125. It's his habit."

The engine shoot a dagger glare at the small fitter, which actually made the mares take aback - this expression made him look formidable. But he quickly caught himself, and reassumed his smile, a soft frown still present, his pronounced, bristly eyebrows lowered under his furrowed yellow forehead, as he spoke gently:

"With nobility comes pride, and SOMETIMES..." he went on, now jokingly quieter, pseudo-whispering to the little filly "...Even I get too big for my wheels."

"No kiddin' right there!" Spike muttered, but another glare from the engine made him shut up.

"Right." Rarity spoke, still bemused "Let's get started, shall we?"

"Lets." the engine replied calmly. There was a 'click' sound, and his cab door opened.

Obediently, Rarity and Sweetie Belle climbed in, and as the door closed, Stuck-Up couldn't help but notice that Spike was staring at him with envy. This gave him mixed feelings. For one, he enjoyed taking the piss on the dragon for mocking him, but on second, the poor lad was clearly "suffering" from FYLS - First, Young Love Syndrome -, a totally common illness which's outcome was totally dependent on the subject of adoration. Spike would certainly be lucky if Rarity would return his feelings, even if it wouldn't last long - that's one way of overcoming the illness, by gaining experience from it -, and if it would turn out to be One-Case? Their love everlasting? A happy end, definitely, too sappy and sugar-coated for the express engine's taste. The other extremity?

He breathed in deeply, mentally wincing on the thought.

Herzeleid.

Sure, Spike was stronger than to do something stupid, for example, end his damned life out of a heartbreak, but he was sure he wasn't smart enough to NOT do anything ELSE stupid. Like run away to prove himself as a dragon-slaying dragon knight, or something.

He had to force himself keep the snort in, as he laughed inwardly on the mental image of Spike in an a horned hat and viking-roman-esque armor, shouting "FUS DO RAH!" at a group of larger, more vicious looking members of his kind.

He then noticed that Spike was still staring at him, now with a challenging look. The diesel brushed it off:

"What are you still doing here?! You got a job to do! Bugger off!" he shout-whispered, finally making him snap out of his gaze, nod, and run off, back into the yard.

With a content smile, Stuck-Up decided it was time to check on his protege.

Stepping inside, the two ponies gasped.

"Now THIS... Is what I call a working environment!" Rarity cried with jubilation. The engine's cab was roomy, clean, and up-to-date - as far as he could tell, having never seen a diesel from the inside before - she was too intoxicated the last time she was in the engine's cab. The control panel was sparkling clean, every knob, dial, button, lever and crank neatly and clearly labeled, the many meters clean and easy to read, the windshields scratch-, and washing-stripeless. The entire cab was well lit, with a door leading to the engine room, the floor covered with neat, gray plastic, filled with tiny glimmering particles - probably Mica. The seat was grand, a wheelless swivel chair, covered in magnificent, chocolate brown (fake) fur cover with similarly coated armrests. With a squee, Rarity jumped into the chair, leaning back in a manner akin to a good friend of her's, Lyra Heartstrings' ways of sitting. She gingerly rubbed her back into the fur case, moaning quietly, resisting the most strangest, and strongest urge to purr.

"MMmmmmmmmh!" she exhaled, finally relaxing. A slight, gentle, sobering frown crept onto her face. The chair was deliciously cushy, yet... Uncomfortable enough to keep her awake.

- "Right." - she thought, and leaned forward, only to find her sister, already beside her, also enjoying the seat. No pony was exactly sure just HOW big humans were - not even Lyra! -, but judging by the size of the seat, if this was JUST perfectly sized for a human to even rest his head against it - then they were considerably larger than the average pony, probably larger than Princess Celestia herself.

- "Probably as large as Alexei." - Rarity pondered, smiling wryly at the memory of the odd... God that introduced the engines to them. HE described himself as "merely" humanoid - did humans had more details then?

Wouldn't be much of a surprise.

One thing she easily figured out about the foreign deity was that he was a simple soul, not one to show off, not even with his looks - meaning his body physique was probably magically simplified. Forget probably - she could of easily drawn him down, or at least his silhouette, JUST by using various geometrical shapes - not even difficult ones, just triangles, tetragons and ONE circle!

What veered his thoughts off from the simplicity of a god was her sister, speaking to her.

"It sure is comfy." she chimed "When do we start?"

"All in good time!" a familiar voice said, making both of them jump.

"Stuck-Up?" Rarity muttered "Is that you?"

"Why so surprised?" the voice, definitely that of the engine's, replied "You two ARE IN my cab, practically, my HEAD."

"Does that mean we're hearing your thoughts?" the filly asked.

"Oh, no." came the mirthful reply "I AM speaking, although engines DO have the ability to telecommunicate, using the ether itself as chatbox, their thoughts being the messages."

"...What?" the mare muttered.

"Can you teach me how to do it?" the filly asked.

"Maybe later." the diesel replied "Right now, I'll have to teach your sister."

A lot of explaining and discussion later, Stuck-Up spoke up.

"Alright, with all that being said, let's get onto the physical part, shall we?

"Indeed." Rarity replied "You've been taking notes sedulously, RIGHT, Sweetie Belle?" she asked sharply.

"Notes?" the diesel muttered "I understand this is a lot to remember, but having your little sister to write down EVERYTHING..." he gave a disappointed sigh "I DID NOT expect this from you, Rarity Belle."

"What?! No! I... Wait. How do you know my full name?" she asked. The engine huffed.

"You called her Sweetie "Belle". It's kind of obvious it's your surname."

"So your surname is English Electric?" Sweetie asked.

"Yes. The company that built my kind is called "English Electric". They produce a lot of things, and one of them was British Rail's Class 40 locomotives."

"British Rail? Class 40?" the sisters asked.

"British Rail was the nationalized railway system and company of my motherland, Great Britain. And, the many locomotives, steam, diesel and electric, were separated by their kind and built, in groups called classes. I'm a Class 40 diesel-electric locomotive. And before you ask, that means that the diesel internal combustion motor located behind you, in the engine room, does not directly powers my wheels, but rather a generator, which then powers the traction motors located on my bogies. As Dr. Whooves for detailed blueprints. It's not likely that copyright infringement would hurt anybody here, or that anyone would have the materials to produce, especially MASS produce diesels like me."

"Why not?" Rarity asked. Sweetie was too busy writing.

"Well, for once, I asked Alexei the other day he checked up on us, and it turns out that literally ALL of Equestria's soil is devoid of any petroleum, which is the very basis of our fuel, diesel oil. And second, while your world is advanced in such subjects as magic, biology, alchemy, and such, even the most advanced nation, the griffons, are a good 90 years behind us in terms of technology, industry, and energy. The distance - sky and ground, my dear, sky and ground. But I guess it's better that way. At least this world doesn't has to suffer from the terrors that technology did in our world.

"I'm afraid to ask..." Rarity uttered, her throat suddenly dry "But... What sort of terrors?"

Stuck-Up was quiet.

"I'd rather not say. For Sweetie's sake."

"Awww..." the filly muttered "This is one of those "big mare" stuffs, right..."

"You can put it that way, Sweetie Belle." the engine replied murkily "Though not the taboo topic you usually bump into."

"Huh?"

"Let me just ask this: you know what death is, right?"

"Why... Of course..." the filly muttered, now uncertain "The end of life."

"Good. And you know what's the name of the act, when somebody, or rather, somepony, takes somepony else's life?"

"Marriage?"

The mare and the diesel snorted with laughter.

"No, at least not in the sense I meant. But close. It also starts with the letter 'm'." Stuck-Up replied after some time.

"...Murder?" Sweetie whispered, now visibly afraid. Rarity gently hugged her, as the engine went on, with dark solemnity.

"Indeed. It is called murder. Now, my creators, the humans, were grand enough to create useful things that helped both them, and each other. But in many cases, they rather create things that, at least in one way, is able to end someone's life. In fact, many times, TOO many times, their technology advanced because they wanted to end each other's lives in great numbers, for their own gain."

"They advanced... Trough war?" Rarity whispered, also terrified. The last stone was about to fall.

"Genocide." came the somber reply "They advanced their technology to wipe out each other, more and more efficiently. And even now, after reaching what we could call perfection, they keep on making more and more lethal discoveries, every and each supporting no one's side, being no one's gain, but being the tool of torture, murder and destruction... Yet... They built us..."

The ponies were clinging to each other, shivering. Not because of cold, though, but because of the icy terror running marathon on their spines, with the heavy weight of grief in their hearts.

"Why does Sweetie has to take notes, anyhoo?" the diesel asked on a lighter tone.

"Oh, uhhh..." the mare was surprised by the change of topic "Well, let's say, SOMEPONY has forgotten to write their report, and choose to mention this the VERY LAST NIGHT before they had to hoof it in.

"Wasn't my fault!" her sister proclaimed "I had nothing to write about! I did one about you last year! Couldn't do the same thing twice!"

"So I took her out from school for a day, to ensure she'll be presenting a top-notch report tomorrow, after spending a day with her sister, who also happens to be learning... How to drive an engine, now it seems..."

"An EXPRESS engine, my dear." Stuck-Up added "Now, where IS that Diesel? He's supposed to be here by now, with my coaches!"

"OH MY GOODNESS!" Rarity shrieked "I just remembered!"

"What?!" the engine asked in alarm.

"The Doctor had told me that we should fetch our own coaches, as I'll have to learn how to control a big engine like you! And I was supposed to TELL YOU THAT!"

In one moment, a bitter and foul swear was climbing it's way up in Stuck-Up's physically questionable throat - then, he pondered.

"What day is it today?" he asked.

"Monday."

The diesel smiled broadly.

"Then don't worry! I only have a mid-day, and a midnight run today. Pip and Emma take care of the morning and afternoon commuter runs."

"Who?" the two mares asked.

Suddenly, there was the blast of a two-tone horn, and, with a rumble and a modest roar, something long, blue, and incredibly fast passed by them, it's yellow end winking them goodbye!

As the two mares stared with astonishment, Stuck-Up only chuckled.

"Show-offs..." he snickered...

"WHAT was that?" Sweetie Belle asked.

"Correctly, WHO was that?" Rarity added, remembering the cheeky wink.

"Why..." the express engine beamed "That was Pip & Emma, the InterCity 125!"

"And this is how you connect the break pipes..."

"Sooo... First I fix the coupling?"

"Yes."

"Then I connect the pipes."

"Yeah."

"And then? Is it done?"

"Oh! I almost forgot! The coaches also have to be electrically connected to the engine!"

"Why?"

"There's lots of stuff in them that uses electricity... You know, like the lights, the air conditioning, the heating... Comfort stuff like that..."

"Oooh!"

"So, you'll have to connect the wires to the right socket, otherwise, the whole thing will sort-circuit."

"Whatever does that mean?"

"Dunno. But the last time I made one, the sockets exploded, and the wires caught on fire!"

"Oh dear!"

"It was easy to repair, well, the wires at least. Should of repaired the sockets, though..."

"Why? Did something went wrong?"

"Well, the workcolts never really looked at it, and the next time I tried to connect the wires, the whole electrical system of the coaches burned out! Every light bulb exploded, the A.C. went haywire and threw sparks everywhere from it's vents, and the heater bellowed smoke... It was only a miracle that the coaches didn't burned down right then and there..."

"Wow... That's unfortunate..."

"You could say that..."

"WAIT!" the engine gasped "You said my normal coaches were only getting overlooked!"

"Uuuuuh..." the dragon muttered, unsure of what to say...

"I think..." Sweetie Belle interrupted "He meant to say... "Overhauled"... If I got that term right."

"Ah yeah! Yeah, that's it!" Spike exclaimed, before whispering to the filly "Thanks for saving my tail there!"

"You're welcome!" Sweetie whispered back, smiling 'Everything for my sister's colt-, I mean, boyfriend!"

That made the little fitter blush.

Stuck-Up was fuming.

"I. CAN'T. Believe this!" he declared, indignantly "My own coaches scorched by the negligence of some lazy workmen! Why, that never happened on our OLD railway!" he blustered "And TRUST me, that place was Fate's Rendezvous spot!"

"Oh, I'm sure it was only an accident, darling!" Rarity soothed him as best as she could. She was apparently cleaning his engine - the only thing she was allowed to change on him, as both the diesel, the workponies, AND Spike, had clearly stated, explained, and ordered her to leave the express engine's design, coloring and decor as it is. Reluctantly, she agreed. Although the coloring was nice, she had to admit, it still felt very dull, empty for her taste. But, orders are orders.

As explanation, they mentioned regulations, identification, and class, most of which she ignored, as the majority of it was more jumbled and foreign-sounding than the times Twilight got a "mental diarrhea" (as Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash often named their studious friend's rapid explaining sprees).

Rest assured, she left the diesel as he was, but not without cleaning out his engine - which was mandatory, and part of her session, anyway. Initially, she was disgusted by the idea of removing oil sludge from hot metal parts, only to apply a fresh layer of grease, but soon enough, she was convinced to do so (majorly by her little sister, who decided to do the dirty work herself, WITHOUT using her horn!) - better safe than sorry!

The engine, on the other hand, was still cross...

"Those miserable, oafish putzes..." he growled "Screwing up MY coaches. MY express!"

"Hey, don't blame me! I changed the wire!" Spike retorted "Blame to other workponies for not checking the outlets! AND Cromwell, HE messed up the electric system!"

"PAH!" the diesel harrumphed, and went silent with disdain.

Not only did he had to shunt his own coaches, a source of irritation, irritation he so far managed to hide, not ONLY did he had to put up with the fumbling of the baby dragon, whom he had been "protecting" from his own impatience, but he also had to deal with the... SUBSTITUTE Coaches...

"I honestly can't understand you..." Rarity muttered, shaking her head "I haven't the slightest idea, what's wrong with these coaches."

"That's EXACTLY the point! YOU don't know, but I DO!" Stuck-Up grunted.

At long last, the coaches were coupled up. Rarity finished with the engine, and went back into the cab. Her sister showed up as well - much to her dismay, as somehow, while Rarity was the one who cleaned the engine blocks, she herself remaining clean, Sweetie, who was observing Spike as he fixed the coupling between the diesel and the train, managed to get herself covered in dirt from hoof to head, outside, far from the dirty interior of the engine. Her sister caught her just as she was climbing in.

"SWEETIE BELLE!" she gasped, more out of worry than anger "What happened?!"

"I'm sorry..." she replied sheepishly "I was saying goodbye to Spike, and I sorta... Wasn't watching where I was going, and... I fell into a puddle..." she grimaced, sticking her tongue out "An OILY puddle!"

Without a word, grasping her sister with her magic, Rarity jumped out of the cab, and rushed towards a nearby outside tap, with Sweetie Belle towed in the air behind her.

"What are you doing?" her sister and the engine asked in unison.

"I'm washing that smirch off you!" the mare declared "Who knows WHAT was in that puddle? Don't worry, Sir Alaric, this'll only take a minute!" she called out to the diesel.

"I don't mind, she's better clean than scabby, but we still have to go to Manehattan, EVENTUALLY..." he called back, with sarcasm in his voice.

Rarity skidded to a halt.

Sweetie, provided with no friction but the hold of the magic aura around her, flung forward above her sister's head, before slowly being pulled back, as the magic holding her needed to get closer to it's source - her sister's horn...

"What?" the white mare asked.

"Haven't you been informed?" Stuck-Up asked back, equally surprised "My route runs from Canterlot to Manehattat, back and forth, stopping here, at Trottingham, and a few other places on the way. I start from either Canterlot or Manehattan, and END my journey in either of them, making a full circle in each run. Usually, I have three runs a day, sometimes five, and on Mondays, only two, one at noon, and the other in the evening or around midnight."

He paused for a moment.

"Don't worry, your session only requires you to do ONE turn, though, a COMPLETE one. We'll start from Manehattan, then go to the Capital, and finally, back to Manehattan. You can take another train back to Ponyville from there."

The ponies remained quiet for the longest time...

The express engine just waited.

The pause in the conversation, and in sound entirely, stretched longer and longer...

But JUST when the silence was turning from awkward to worrying...

"I'm going to see... Manehattan... AND Canterlot... In one day?" Rarity asked, her voice meek...

"Well... Don't get yourself flattered!" Stuck-Up replied "We're on business, so you won't have time to go sightseeing! I need you to remain, AT LEAST, in the station. Deserting your engine on duty comes with heavy penalties, you know. Pay cuts, un-preferred work-swap, mandatory overtime work... Besides, you shouldn't make the passengers wait - it'll spoil my... I mean, the Express' image. I haven't been late, not one time, since I arrived to your world, and I intend to keep it that way!"

Rarity didn't seemed to listen. She stared into the air, absentminded. Sweetie Belle, on the other hand, was more down to earth.

"We're going to Manehattan?" she asked with great enthusiasm. The diesel rolled his eyes, his prominent eyebrows waving slightly. The movement also readjusted his monocle.

"Yes." he groaned. At least, ONE of the ponies was still aware they had a job to do.

"YES!" the scream that echoed through the yard woke him from his sulking, as he thought it had an orgasmic tone, and for Sweetie Belle's sake, he quickly glanced around, only to see that Rarity had already scrubbed her little sister clean, and both mare and filly were ready for the journey, sporting wide grins.

The diesel just chuckled.

They made excellent time with the empty coaches, and, passing through Trottingham junction, the express engine noticed something: familiar faces in the small shunting yard close the isolated junction.

He wasn't the only one, though.

"98462 and 84576." he murmured, glancing at the sky blue L.N.E.R. B12 and B17.

"Do you know them?" Rarity asked.

"Sort of. We usually have a fallout with these two every now and then." her replied.

"Are they bad?" Sweetie asked with concern in his voice, as he watched the two tender engines move about in the yard.

"Oh no." Stuck-Up chuckled "We're just... "Frienemeies", so to speak. We have competitions with them sometimes, most of which doesn't ends up pretty friendly, though." his voice drifted off, as he got buried deep in his thoughts, before realizing he isn't alone. "There's no real harm in them. They're venerable steamers, in fact, one of my first friends were from this type of locomotives."

"Oh." Sweetie replied, writing into her notebook "And what about that other engine, waiting at a signal, and the diesels in the shed."

"Other engine? Diesels?" Stuck-Up asked, glancing back at the yard. Indeed, the shed was filled with diesels, the ones he knew very well: Brush, a kind Rail Blue and yellow Class 47, Burdock, a Class 33 in Rail Freight livery. Besides them was Rhodders, a green, cream and yellow colored, spiteful Class 31, Matthias, an elderly, maroon Class 52 with cream windscreen frames, Brock, a scurrilous, olive green Class 40, and Vac, an infantile, yet, clever and experienced Class 31 with Rail Blue and yellow livery and over-window headcode panel, now empty, and serving as a lamp. Outside the shed, two Class 08s parked on the sidings, one in a simple "Shunter Black" livery, with noticeable, arched ladders on the two sides of his front, similar to Diesel, but not as boxy as him, with red traction rods, and uncolored buffers. His face was quite similar to Diesel's, but he looked a bit younger, and more happier than the surly shunter back in the marshaling yard. The other Class 08 beside him was painted rail blue with yellow traction rods and buffer plates, carrying the BR symbol on his cab. But what was much more interesting about this particular engine is that he had his face on the back of his cab, hazard-striped, like the rest of the cab's rear, while instead of the two oblong windows on the sides of the rear, he had a line of five, narrower, but better vision-providing set of windows, packet together tightly.

"Who are they?" Sweetie Belle asked.

"The engines in the shed are number 47666, Brush, number 33102, Burdock, number D701, Rhodders, number D1074, "Western Pathfinder", or Matthias, number D782, Brock, and number 31120, Vac. The shunters are called Mute and Cross. Cross is the one who has his face on his ars... I mean, cab, and Mute is the black one. He's that strong, silent type."

Stuck-Up chuckling at the last part.

"They're all comrades who we can relate and rely on - as much as you can rely on ANYONE on the Other Railway."

The ponies chuckled as well, when Rarity suddenly asked.

"But tell me, darling, WHY are you lot specifically called "The OTHER Railway"?"

"You'll see in time." the diesel replied haughtily "Now, where's that other steam engine?"

He got his answer, as his vision of the yard was blocked by a mixed goods train, made out of older trucks, vans, and two tankers, an aging brake van at the back. And leading the train was...

"No..." Stuck-Up muttered, eyes wide, before his mouth curled into a cheerful grin "Oh, dear Lord, no! I can't believe it!"

"What's wrong, Stuck-Up?" the filly asked "Is he an enemy?"

"Oh, Heavens, no!" the diesel replied "He's a friend! A great friend, in fact!"

Leading the train was bright crimson tender engine, with crimson wheels on both engine and tender, a crimson done, black lining, and a red roof - his smoke box and funnel naturally being black. It was hard to decide what type, what class he was: he looked like a mixture of a Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway Class 27 and a Glasgow and South Western Railway 403 Class "Austrian Goods", with a Fowler tender. He had no name or number painted on, heck, not even a company symbol or monogram. Stuck-Up was so surprised to see this locomotive that he didn't even noticed his signal was red - hadn't been for Rarity, he would've rolled pass it.

"Eagle!" he cried out, stopping beside the engine. 'Eagle' looked up, and smiled.

"Alaric!" he cheered, blowing his three-chime whistle (successfully startling his crew, who weren't used to such antics from machines).

"Do you know him?" Sweetie Belle asked, poking her head out of the cab.

"Of course!" the diesel replied happily, before clearing his throat "Rarity, Sweetie! I'd like you to meet Eagle! He was one of the first steam engines I met when I started working! In fact, I believe, we all know him!"

"We? You mean, the Other Railway?" Rarity asked, mesmerized.

"Indeed. Eagle, this is Rarity Belle and Sweetie Belle. Rarity is my protege for the day, and she brought her sister with her to study rail work."

"Pleasant to meet you!" Eagle replied back in a noticeable Yorkshire accent, a mixture between York, Sheffield and Leeds accents. He came off as general English, though, general Northern English, that is.

After introducing his own driver and fireman, a stallion and a colt, father and son from Trottingham (former farmers put out of business by drought and a parasprite invasion), the two engines got into a lively chat. It turned out that Stuck-Up was not all that clarity, lustrum and pomp he gave himself out. He, like any engine, was once a novice diesel, who happened to be based in Yorkshire, all those years ago, in his early years, while still under the pre-TOPS number, D400. His mentor and earliest friend, beside fellow Class 40s, was Eagle, then painted black with red stripes.

Together, they shared many good memories. Unfortunately, as the number of diesels and electrics increased on the rails, the distance between steam and diesel locomotives grew bigger, arrogance and mere rudeness turning into loath and disdain, both sides being under pressure. Steam engines feared withdrawal, while diesels feared three things at once: being out-dated by newer designs, being put aside for the favor of electrics, and being cast away by preserving societies in favor of steam engines, if either of their first worries came true.

The tension slowly grew to a sort of racial segregation, apartheid, that even grew on the railway workers and enthusiasts.

In some regions, diesel engines were assaulted by steam-supporters. In others, preserved steam engines were vandalized, and withdrawn engines were scrapped sooner for no apparent reason. It took time for the electrics to catch on, but when they did, both steamers and diesels became losers - and woe for the defeated! Each side's worst nightmares came true, as, much like an enormous snow plough, electrification swept them aside, into the filth.

In these dark times, the two engines tried to remain friends, but the tension even got to them. So, on a gloomy day, they departed, each going in separate directions.

"After that, I was bought by a preservation society, as predicted." Eagle murmured "I was originally sent to stay at York, but I got stalled, and in the end, they didn't even wanted me. My fate was to be decided in a few days before I came to this new, pony world. I decided to take matter into my own buffers."

"Good to hear and see." Stuck-Up smiled.

"But what about you? You didn't had your title back then, just your number, and your chosen name." the crimson engine asked. The diesel sighed. Clearly, these were painful memories he was reciting.

"After we've parted, I was based in London, where I got my new number, 40125. I worked there, and around the Thames in particular, before British Rail was privatized." he frowned at the last world, before carrying on "I was bought by the G.N.E.R., where I worked with other members of my class and some Class 37s as freight and auxiliary passenger engines, until..." his voice dropped, his face turning into a deep frown of rancor.

"I think..." he muttered darkly "You may have heard..." his face seemed to grow darker, especially around the eyes.

"I did." Eagle replied, sounding bereft and deferential.

There was a long pause.

Then, Eagle's signal turned green. The engine smiled once again.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, SIRE Alaric." he snickered "I'm looking forward to see you more, and that's very likely, as I and the lads in the yard are an auxiliary set to your marshaling yard, and a back-up for the section. We'll deal with the cross-region and beyond region stuff here." he explained, as he started off. But just before he left, he whistled back "Cheer up, lad! That was all a long time ago! 'Time to look forward', you always said!"

And with a blow of his whistle, he left, the goods train rattling behind him.

Stuck-Up smiled, and soon, his signal turned green as well...

As they trundled down the line, Rarity couldn't help but to ask the diesel:

"So, you once worked as a goods engine?"

The Class 40 chuckled.

"Yes, a lot of times in fact. We all started with goods, then moved onto passengers. I just sticked with the latter."

"But tell me, Sir Alaric..." the mare spoke softly "What has happened to you on the..." she thought back "G.N.E.R.?"

The engine's smile disappeared.

"Can we talk about this another time?" he asked on a solemn, but firmly voice.

He took the ponies' silence as agreement.

They soon arrived to Manehattan, and, as Stuck-Up predicted, there was barely time for the mares to even visit a toilet.

But they were soon off again, the coaches now full... So far, nothing wrong...

But as they rolled out of the station and onto the open line, they heard the clattering of the coaches become more audible.

Tricketty-trock Trickety-trock Trickety-trock!

It was a steady, fast rhythm, simple enough for a foal to remember it. Quite monotonous, too...

"Oh good..." the express engine groaned, as more and more passengers looked out through the windows, wondering about the noise.

"Here we go again..."

Trickety-trock Trickety-trock

Trickety Trock, Trickety Trock, Trickety-trickety Trock!

Trickety Trock, Trickety Trock, Trickety-Trickety Trock!

"Oooh God..." the diesel groaned, as the passengers began to hear a catchy hip-hop instrumental, matching the rhythm of the coaches' chattering, pour out from the speakers, as the coaches went on.

Trickety Trock, Trickety Trock, Trickety-trickety Trock!

Trickety Trock, Trickety Trock, Trickety-trickety Trock!

Trickety-trickety Trock-trock, Trickety Trock, Trickety Trock!

Trickety-trickety Trock-trock, Trickety Trock, Trickety Trock!

Trickety Trock, Trickety Trock, Trickety-trickety Trock!

Trickety Trock, Trickety Trock, Trickety-trickety Trock!

Trickety-trickety Trock-trock, Trickety Trock, Trickety Trock!

Trickety-trickety Trock-trock, Trickety Trock, Trickety Trock!

Trickety-trickety-trickety-trickety Trock, Trickety Trock Trock!

"See what I meant?" the diesel asked crabbily. The two ponies only stared.

"I see..." Rarity muttered, and cast a glance at her sister. Sweetie Belle was busy bobbing her head gently to the rhythm, smiling happily with her eyes closed.

Rarity chortled.

"They sure seem to have a sense of rhythm." and she joined her sister, but leaving her eyes open.

Again, Stuck-Up just groaned.

They still made an excellent journey, with the passengers having a wonderful time in the rapping coaches. Even the express engine himself enjoyed the journey, including the steady climb to Canterlot up the mountain, across the viaduct between the two mountain sides, slipping into the large passenger station located in a lower level of the city.

No sooner Stuck-Up had passed the city gates, the coaches went solemnly silent. They stopped smoothly next to platform, and passengers soon bustled out from the coaches.

They had to wait for an control car, a Driving Van Trailer, so that Rarity could drive the train from the other end, as there wasn't any place for Stuck-Up to go around the train.

The mare stood outside the engine, gazing around the modern station, while Sweetie Belle was dozing in the cab - they had woke up earlier than usual that morning.

Her sister was still enjoying herself, despite not being allowed outside the station. But as she watched passengers, porters and workponies trot and rush by, she noticed something that made her freeze and her blood boil in the same time.

Her expression was telling, as Stuck-Up noticed her fury, and glanced into the direction she was looking.

A dashing, handsome looking white stallion with a blonde mane and tail, and a compass-star-resembling mark on the top his hind leg, entered the station, the ponies respectfully stepping aside from him, but not bothering to pay much attention to him. This seemed to irritate him, as he had a sense of excellence lingering around him.

At a speed that would've made Rainbow Dash proud, Rarity zoomed back into Stuck-Up's cab, slamming the door shut, waking her sister, and quickly ordering her to be quiet, as she peered through the cab window, hoping that the light reflected from it would provide her cover.

The diesel stared, as the stallion, after trotting around a bit, came up to him with a proud smile on his face.

"'Scuse me!" he called out to him with a haughty voice "Can you tell me where the express going to Manehattan is?"

"You're staring right at it." Stuck-Up replied, sounding none-the-less haughtier himself. The seemed to have caught the stallion off guard, but he resumed his content gaze at the engine, now eyeing him up.

"Oh. So YOU'RE pulling, er, PUSHING the express." he spoke "Well, you certainly ARE a peculiar one."

The engine raised an eyebrow.

"Am I?" he asked on an extravagant tone.

"Well..." the pony went on "I've never seen any machinery like you. And trust me, I've seen enough."

"Have you?" the diesel asked, now curious.

"Yes. Yes indeed." the stallion replied, his voice changing from haughty to sincere and gentle "I am the Royal Industry Inspector." he explained "And I was informed that many, MANY new kind of locomotives have arrived. So, naturally, I set off to do what is my duty."

His voice turned back to normal (arrogant) again.

"Anyways, I may have... Sort of... Expected a... Uh..."

"Steam engine?" the express engine asked, a bit listlessly.

"Yes, that! To pull the train..." the stallion quickly explained.

"Some inspector..." Stuck-Up thought, but introduced himself politely, anyway "Well, pleasant to meet you then, sir. I am number 40125, Sir Alaric English Electric, express engine of the... Former... Barrow Regional Transit, pro-passenger engine of British Rail before that."

"Oh, so you're the one!" the stallion grinned "The... Princess, and Mr. Alexei had mentioned you specifically..."

"Oh, did they?" the engine asked cheerily.

"...Being the most haughtiest, most arrogant and pompous engine in the entire region, if not the whole railway itself. With a venerable knowledge of rules and regulations, and a most versatile experience, of course."

Stuck-Up froze, his face keeping the same expression he had, but now with a constrained tone.

"R-Really?" he asked meekly, before something hit him "WAIT! I understand why you had consulted with Alexei..." he said, the manner he talked about the deity and controller of the railway surprising the stallion more than anything "...But just WHY, pray tell, have you needed to consult with the Princess?"

"Well..." the stallion replied with an indifferent tone "As I AM the Royal Industry Inspector, she had to consult with me even BEFORE I talked to your controller." he explained "She wants me to fully put my nose into my work, less I want my OWN royalty to be taken from me... Again..." he added with a sour, tired voice.

"Royalty? You?" Stuck-Up asked "...Again?"

"Well, I AM the Princess' nephew." the haughty pony explained, sheer arrogance seeping out from him.

The engine, on the other hand, seemed far from being impressed, even the slightest bit. In his stupor of haughtiness, the stallion didn't realized this, even when he asked him again, with a suspicious and edgy voice:

"What IS your name, anyway?"

The stallion chuckled.

"Ohoho. You must be new around here." he smirked "I am, of course, Prince Blueblood."

"Oh, so YOU'RE the one...!!!" the engine snapped, making everyone (including the Prince) stop dead in their tracks, gazing at the pair.

Inside the cab, the two sisters squirmed.

"YOU'RE that pompous bastard who screwed up Rarity's night at that Gala!" the diesel growled furiously "And you come, gallivanting into my sight, like you OWN the bloody world! The NERVE!!!" he snorted "SOME Prince you are, anyway, not having the slightest knowledge about how to treat a lady! Not only that, but you had yourself removed from your royal title FOURTEEN times so far! A Real Royal PAIN IN THE ARSE you are, mate, and nothing more!"

It was only then that Prince Blueblood had recovered from the engine's outburst.

"HOW DARE YOU...!" he yelled "How DARE you berate ME, when YOU, who supposed to be an EXPRESS engine, haven't been on time for TWENTY YEARS FLAT before coming to Equestria! I'd ought to be VERY quiet if I were you! I'll have to write my report to my aunt about your performance, if you DIDN'T guess!"

Stuck-Up was also taken aback, but quickly recovered.

"RRRRGH!" he growled fiercely, engine revving up "Listen up, you stupid, mediocre, pathetic little waste of glue material!"

Many gasped at the grotesque obscenity of the diesel, and the guts he had to say such thing to the haughty Prince.

"AS IF you weren't enough SPINELESS and COWARDLY already, you try to use THAT against me? Well, here's something to freshen your info! I'VE already MET with the Princesses, and I gained their respect soon enough! And from what I learned when meeting with them in person, they're not like the RIDICULOUS royalty stereotype like YOU are! And I HIGHLY doubt that Princess Celestia would sink down to such lowliness as NEPOTISM - 'CAUSE THAT'S EXACTLY YOUR LEVEL, YOU MORONIC, ABSURD RUNT!"

Prince Blueblood looked visibly shaken by these harsh words, having fallen on his flank, and staring towards the engine with fear plastered on his face.

Well, that was what Old Stuck-Up thought, until he saw a shadow cast beside him, on the platform.

Slowly, he glanced towards it's source.

Inside the cab, Rarity's jaw dropped!

There, standing beside them (for quite a while by now), was Princess Luna, looking quite astonished.

Neither engine or stallion said a word.

Rarity and Sweetie Belle sunk beneath the level of the windows, and hugging each other tightly, trying to pull themselves together, attempting to take as little space up as possible.

There was a long, awkward pause...

Then, the Princess spoke up, breaking the silence:

"...Wow..." was all she said.

TO BE CONCLUDED

Episode 4 - Enterprising Mare(s)

ENTERPRISING MARE(S)

PART TWO

The Princess of the Night stared at both locomotive and relate.

Prince Blueblood, the haughty and scandalous member of the Royal family, fourteen times removed, had what was probably the worst quarrel she had ever heard, with the infamously arrogant Other Railway Express diesel engine, Old Stuck-Up.

Simply the language the engine allowed himself to stoop down had disturbed her to no end - but on the other hoof, it was nothing that snooty nephew of her didn't deserved. Finally, she recovered enough to sort things out.

"Blueblood!" she snapped at the prince "I THINK we have agreed that you would actually DO your duty withOUT ANY disturbance, and THIS is exactly what we meant, and told you to avoid, A THOUSAND TIMES! And THIS is how you repay that we accepted you back, AGAIN?!" she took a deep breath "I'll have to have a word with my sister about this, and I can assure you, I'M not going to like it. And for YOUR sake, it'll better be better than what I expect from that conversation. OR ELSE..."

She turned away from the cowering stallion, and glanced at the diesel, now sporting a haughty pout with a frown.

"And you to, Stuck-Up!" she snapped at the engine "From a such a renowned, respectable and KNIGHTED engine, I would of expected better behavior than this... This... Utter act of immaturity and vulgar outburst!"

Even after being caught in the act of telling off a royalty in front of another, more respectable royalty, behaving with such manners he barely saw even from HIS own colleges, the engine still had the balls to talk back.

"Well, you have my full, honest respect, Princess Luna." he replied coldly "But, relate of yours or not, you can't expect me to put up with such... An insufferable... Idiotic... TWAT..." he growled.

The crowd of ponies that had gathered around the scene now gasped. Luna just raised her eyebrows.

"I quite understand." she replied simply "But you'll have to put up with him on your return journey, still."

"WHAT?!" both gasped.

"Don't look so surprised." the Princess went on "Prince Blueblood IS the Royal Industrial Inspector, and his duty is to observe the train on your way back to Manehattan. And, to be honest, it's your driver that I'm more concerned about. Where is he, anyway?" she asked.

"Oh, SHE'S around..." the diesel replied, satisfied to hear the pony in question wince in his cab.

"She?" Blueblood asked.

"What, you thought this wasn't a co-ed railway?" Stuck-Up asked "Don't fool yourself. Even if it wasn't, my driver would definitely be a mare, given that the majority of Equestria is female. And speaking of females, you ought to apologize to the mare you've upset to the Gala."

"How do you even know about that?" the Prince asked with sheer curiosity.

"Not hard to find out about things, when the mare in question..." he replied, giving an effect pause, as he opened he cab door "...Is my driver!"

Tumbling out from the cab with a familiar "WA-HA-HAAHA!", came a bright white pony with purple mane and diamonds for a cutie mark. Prince Blueblood instantly recognized her, and was quite surprised, but said nothing. He just stared, getting back onto his hooves, as the mare did so as well.

They stared at each other for the longest time, both bemused. Finally, Rarity spoke up in a demanding manner.

"Well?"

Blueblood snorted.

"I don't have anything to say."

"PAH!" Stuck-Up retorted, expelling short, sooty plumes of exhaust fumes from his vents on each side, turning his gaze away with a frown.

"Very well then." Rarity replied in the same huffing manner, as she called back into the cab "Come on, Sweetie Belle, we got a train to take!"

There was no reply.

"Sweetie?" Rarity asked, now aghast.

"Over here, sis!" a voice called out. Rarity, Blueblood, AND Luna turned to see that far, far in the distance, at the other end of the platform, a cheerful filly was looking back at them with a smile on her face, her head poking out from the doorway of the control car.

"You brought your sister along?" Luna asked on a warm tone.

"Yes." Rarity sighed "I had agreed to help her with a school assignment."

"Well, we shouldn't keep her waiting!" Blueblood replied with the same sincere voice he talked to Stuck-Up not long before their quarrel. This surprised both mares, as the stallion trotted off at a quick pace, towards the other end of the train.

Rarity cast a glance at the Princess, wondering if she was as surprised as she was. But Luna had a rare, gentle smile on her face. She then turned to Rarity and Old Stuck-Up.

"Even though he's haughty and unlikeably snobbish at times, he actually means well." she explained "You just got to get him in the right mood."

And with that, she flew off - thankfully, this wasn't the roof covered part of the station.

Rarity just stared.

The journey had been uneventful for most of the time. Sweetie Belle felt it clearly that this wasn't the time for her to jabber about, so she remained quiet. Neither Rarity, nor Prince Bluebood talked to the each other, both carrying deadpan expressions...

But somewhere around the middle of the journey, the Prince began to question Rarity about her session. Starting stiffly, the conversation went on and on, and both ponies began to feel very content with themselves. They arrived to Manehattan a quarter hour early, and were greeted by the cheering of the passengers.

"I'll write my reports later." Blueblood spoke to the mare after the cheering crowd had left "And thank you for a most wonderful time."

"It's quite alright." Rarity replied happily. They had warmed to each other nicely on the trip, and now felt like they had been the firmest friends since always. Still, she felt like she needed to say SOMETHING to him:

"And, a word of friendly advise: Don't get too big for your hooves. On this journey, you showed me that you could actually act like a normal pony, what more, one of the most nicest ponies I've ever met. You should stick to that, and drop your snobbery. Life shouldn't revolve around you! Even your aunts move their celestial representations around Equestria, not the other way around!" the mare spoke, then remembered something the express engine said, earlier "Well, at least, not in OUR planetary system!"

The stallion just stared, his mind processing what she said. When he finally got all of it (except for the part with the planetary systems), he chortled, and replied:

"I'm also sorry about the Grand Galloping Gala." the Prince went on "I must have given you a terrible time, but when I heard that you are the Element of Generosity, I couldn't help but to test it." he grinned.

Rarity's eyes went wide.

"Test it? What do you mean?" she asked. The other pony snickered.

"What, you really thought I'm that much of a great big neat-freak wet blanket? I ACTED like a real git, that's for sure, but you DID had your revenge, didn't you?" the stallion chuckled "I'm still picking pie crumbs from my mane. Next time, aim for my muzzle, will you?"

"Your... Behavior... That night... Was only... An act?" the fashionista asked, eyes going blank.

"I don't really like boasting..." Blueblood replied "But what I AM proud of are my acting skills, and my tendency to shake things up, which is why my aunt Celestia haven't offered my rump to the griffon governor down in South Phillydelphia as a prize feast!"

Rarity blinked.

"What?"

"You see my cutie mark?" the Prince asked, turning slightly.

"Yes... It looks like a..." before the mare could finish, the stallion interrupted.

"Yeah, a compass rose, I get that a lot. But get THIS: it's actually a chaos symbol!"

The mare deadpanned.

"Whuuaaat?" she asked, her face dropping slightly.

Prince Blueblood took a deep breath.

"Despite that everybody believes that I'm the impersonation of snobbism and cowardice, I'm not. It's all an act, a scam, so to speak." he looked aside "I never liked being royalty. Sure, it has it's advantages, but the whole ruddy thing, eh, it's just not me. But, since I was unwillingly raised in it, and haven't learned to do proper work, I've decided I'll make myself useful in a different way: I've deliberately turned myself into tabloid material, a living scandal with a personality to boot. This takes the pressure off from my aunts and other relates media-wise, while I get the laugh."

He paused, impressively.

"My cutie mark is actually a chaos symbol, only a sophisticated, streamlined version - and likewise, I'm not Discord himself, aren't I? I just love to 'mix the manure', so to speak. Plus, I provide the necessary inconvenience to the princesses."

"HWAT?" Rarity asked with a consternated voice, making a perfect replica of Trevor's Shocked Face (also known as an O Face).

"I'm the grievance of the royal sisters, pretty much the only one beside the two main parties in the parliament and their schoolcolt cabinets. Without me, they would always have a dilly-dally shilly-shally day, getting accustomed to the nonsense of the parliament, and would go insane with all the luxury and extravagance provided to them."

Rarity closed her mouth. Somehow, somewhere in the back of her mind, this all made sense to her now.

"Well, I'll be off now! See you soon!" the Prince smiled, and trotted off, leaving the dazed and surprised mare where she was.

The two ponies and the engine bid farewell, and parted.

Rarity and Sweetie Belle headed into the city, exploring the grand metropolis, soaking up it's sights and glamour.

Old Stuck-Up, on the other hand, took a more simpler form of leisure: parking into the grand shed of the Manehattan Freight Yard.

Stuck-Up reversed into one of the berths near the middle of the shed, the workmare driving him shutting his engine down, and leaving without saying goodbye - engines like him came and went here.

Soon enough, workponies rushed out, and began cleaning and examining him for any damage.

"Ah, that's better." he thought, and closed his eyes, dozing off while the small equines worked.

By the time he woke up, it was already late in the afternoon, and the sun was not far from setting.

He was alone, the workers have already left, leaving him for his thoughts. Watching the yard, still bustling and full of life as the shunting and switching engines moved about, workmares and workcolts on their duty.

He smiled at the sight. It was good to see a railway so... Alive and thriving.

He was woken from his thoughts by the sounds of another engine. A steam engine, to be precise.

It reversed into the berth right next to his, and stopped with a strong, yet, visibly controlled wheesh of steam. The diesel eyed him up. He appeared to be L.M.S. Patriot Class engine, painted green with red lining. His wheels and cylinders, however, were unpainted, only covered by a cheap grey wax-coat, and soot. Stuck-Up couldn't see it properly, but he thought he saw the old British Railways' crest on his tender. The engine then noticed he was staring at him, and smiled.

"Good afternoon!" he greeted him. The express diesel snorted, but replied politely.

"Good afternoon. Do you have any sort of business here?"

The tender engine frowned.

"Nothing much. Just wanted to relax and get checked over." he replied "Why? Does that bothers you?"

"No, not at all." Stuck-Up replied quickly "I'm here for that reason as well."

"Right." the engine replied shortly "Are you based here as well?"

"No, but I guess you are."

The engine smiled.

"Indeed I am. Or at least will be, after the show."

"Show?" Stuck-Up asked "What show?"

"Haven't you heard?" the engine asked back "There will be a grand steam engine show in a few hours. You see, the... Ponies here in Manehattan prefer steam engines over diesels and electrics, so, they'll reveal their official fleet today!"

The diesel stared.

"You mean, Manehattan Freight Yards doesn't have a fleet right now?" he muttered, thoroughly bemused.

"There is a fleet..." the tender engine replied "See those shunters over there?" he spoke, looking into the yard. Stuck-Up followed his glance, and saw four tank engines, all painted BR Freight Black, working away among the coal trucks.

One was an London and North Eastern Railway (L.N.E.R.) J72 Class, number 69029 - he was busy shunting a long line of empty trucks towards a chute - you could really find EVERYTHING in this yard!

Another seemed to look like a J83 with red traction rods, filling up at a water tower.

The third one was clearly an M.R. 1F, thoughtfully moving some trucks through a set of points, wearing round glasses.

The fourth one appeared to be a L.S.W.R. G6, and looked quite cross, as it was stuck between two long lines of trucks, moving slowly down a longer siding. It's number, probably due to the confusing nature of it's original creator's, the London and South Western Railway's numbering scheme, and British Railways' confusion, was 30xxx. All wore the old BR crest.

Stuck-Up rolled his eyes.

"Pueh. Common shunters." he muttered. The engine frowned.

"What? To low for your taste, lad? What are you, a knight or something?"

The diesel beamed with pride in return.

"As a matter of fact, I am!" he replied "I'm Sir Alaric..." and he stopped here.

"Sir Alaric what?" the engine asked inquired, amused by the awkward look on the diesel's face. In return, Stuck-Up muttered something barely comprehensible.

"Excuse, can you repeat that?" the engine asked again.

"English Electric..." Stuck-Up uttered. Then, after a short pause, he added with a bit of regained pride "I'm Sir Alaric English Electric."

"...So, it's a bought knighthood, eh?" the tender engine sneered.

"Oh, what's it to you?!" the express engine snapped, before continuing haughtily "What does bulky sewer pipe full of hot air know about knighthood, royalty, and class, anyway?"

"Quite a lot." the engine replied shortly, then continuing with a stern voice "I actually worked through most of my life through the decades when those things actually mattered."

"So you did." Stuck-Up growled "What's your name anyway?"

"Euston." the tone of the steam engine was suddenly cheerful again.

"Euston?" the diesel mused "After Euston station?"

"Yes." the tender engine replied, surprised "How did you know?"

Stuck-Up rolled his eyes again.

"You're a Patriot Class engine, so you obviously worked on the L.M.S. before the Nationalization..."

"Cursed thing..." the engine muttered under his breath.

"WHY?! You prefer Privatization, then?!" the diesel yelled angrily, startling him.

"Heavens above, no!" the engine replied quickly.

"Right. So, you probably worked on the L.M.S. before British Railways. And when I was working in London, I heard old workmen talk about the L.M.S. all the time. It wasn't TOO hard to figure out, really."

"Well done then, Sir Al!" the tender engine smiled.

"Don't tease me, Euston." Stuck-Up smirked arrogantly "You don't wanna set me in the wrong mood..."

"Why?" Euston asked innocently, but before Stuck-Up could reply, they were interrupted by two shrill whistles, and the sound of steam engines. Two green tender engines, an L.M.S. 2P, and a G.W.R. 2251 Class, no names or numbers, reversed into the berths next to Euston. They both appeared to be female, wearing the old BR crest, and in a heated argument.

'No, I thought I made it clear: we're NOT being preserved! We're ACTUALLY being put back in full service! We're ACTUALLY going to be the part of the railway, not some excursion rides for small children!' the 2P spoke indignantly, her long eyelashes fluttering as she blinked, showing off the Clockwork Orange-style make-up on her right eye.

"Foals, Clarisse, foals! We're not on Earth anymore! These equines have generously put time and effort into getting us back in ship-shape, so, at LEAST, you can learn their dialect!" the G.W.R. engine retorted eyes half closed, revealing her pitch dark eye shadows.

"I might as well do that, Mirabell." her argument partner replied "But still, I CAN'T see why you swallow your dignity for such petty reasons! We're NOT being preserved, we're ACTUALLY back in service!"

"Clarisse, Mirabell!" the Patriot engine berated them "We have a visitor, if you haven't noticed, so why don't you two ACTUALLY quit arguing for a moment, and greet him!"

This seem to have caught the two engine's attention, as they looked towards them, surprised.

"Oh, Euston!" said Clarisse "Sorry, didn't see you there!"

"Yes, what a pleasant surprise." Mirabell added, swooning. The big engine blushed slightly, while Stuck-Up chuckled.

"Nice to meet you, ladies." he called out to them "I'm..."

"Hey, aren't you Old Stuck-Up, from the 'Other Railway'?" Mirabell asked, interrupting him. Slowly, Euston turned his gaze towards him, now looking quite smug, before he gave a hearty laugh. The diesel deadpanned.

"Yes. YES, I AM." he growled, sounding quite threatening, making the other three exchange concerned looks. Just then, yet another steam engine's whistle sounded out, and yet ANOTHER tender engine reversed into the sheds, this time, into a berth one siding away from Stuck-Up's other side. This one was a bit odd:

It was a BR Standard Class 9F locomotive, with a black tender (a simplified, white silhouette version of the old crest on it), and a green body (including his smoke deflectors, while his smoke box was black) and wheels, no name or number displayed. He stopped quietly, and glanced at the others. He had dark shadows around his eyes, and completely straight eyebrows, now in a frown. The two female engines glanced at each others nervously, and reversed slightly. Euston, on the other hand, smiled kindly, and spoke to the newcomer.

"Hello, Murcof! You're home early."

The other engine smiled, wickedly.

"I am." he stated, speaking in a low, murky voice "So, who's the new guy? I've seen him around before... "

"Oh, I'd like you to meet Sir Alaric. Or Old Stuck-Up, as I heard..." Euston smirked.

"Charmed to meet you, Murcof." Stuck-Up spoke up.

"Likewise." Murcof steamed back "So, what are you doing here?"

"Just taking a rest." the diesel replied calmly "I've been pulling the Midday Express, the, uh, Canterlot-Manehattan one."

"The, uh, Canterlot-Manehattan one, hmmm?" Murcof replied, before chortling, which sounded like cracking ice.

The two female engines were visibly uneasy with the 9F being there, slowly reversing more and more into the sheds.

"Well, I better take a rest, now..." the big engine snickered coolishly, reversing into the shadows of his berth.

With a relieved sight, the two green engines resurfaced.

"Feeewww..." Mirabell exhaled.

"Thank God." Clarissa added.

"What's with them?" Stuck-Up whispered to the Patriot engine.

"They're terrified of Murcof. Many engines are." Euston explained "But he's not bad, just a darkly sort who prefers notoriety over friends."

"No kidding about that..." the diesel muttered, before he was interrupted by a booming whistle, as YET ANOTHER tender engine, this time, a bright red L.M.S. Jubilee Class with golden lining, reversing into the berth between his and Murcof's. He stopped, glanced around grumpily, huffed, and retreated into the shadows of the shed as well.

"What-Who was that?" Stuck-Up asked, thoroughly puzzled.

"That's Conrad" Clarisse explained "Named after Conrad II, the Emperor of the Holly Roman Empire."

"Sad fact is, he's a rampant atheist..." Mirabell chuckled.

"...And, he's quite xenophobic, yard-wise, at least." Clarisse added.

"Well, he definitely does more work than you two!" a female voice called out.

Reversing into the berth beside the two green engines was a non-streamlined L.M.S. Coronation Class locomotive, painted maroon with golden and black lining, with a black smoke box and wheels, and no smoke deflectors, name or number, but, again, wearing the crest on her tender. It stopped proudly beside the two chatterbox tender engines.

"Good afternoon, Beatrice!" Euston called out to her.

"'Afternoon, Euston." she replied kindly, before noticing the diesel "And who are you?" she asked, curiously.

"He's Old Stuck-Up." Mirabell replied instead of him "From the 'Other Railway'!"

"But he calls himself Sir Alaric!" Clarissa added.

"I THINK I could have said those ALL BY MYSELF, thank you!" Stuck-Up growled angrily. Clarisse and Mirabell just smiled at him innocently, which annoyed the diesel to no end. Harrumphing, he turned to the latest arrival.

"And you are?" he asked in a polite tone.

"Beatrice." she replied softly "I'm sorry about the girls. They have a tendency to be... Chatty..."

The two green tender engines just giggled, and, after a respectful glance at the Coronation Class engine, they reversed into the sheds as well, picking up their argument where they stopped.

"I see what you mean..." Stuck-Up chuckled "So, are you one of the Duchesses?"

"Oh, no!" Beatrice replied "I'm a rebuilt engine, I was never labelled. The preservation group that put me together couldn't find anyone to sell me though, and I thought I was going to be used as a donor engine in the end..." she shivered here "But in the end, I managed to escape here, into this new world... Of ponies... I also managed to drag these to along." she smirked, glancing at the sidings were the two green engines stood.

"They seem to have some respect towards you, perhaps because of this?" Stuck-Up pondered.

"Perhaps..." the maroon engine smiled, before she noticed something "What's this?"

The other two followed her look, and saw it:

Four engines, all banged up and dirty, being slowly shunted by a sky blue G.W.R. 5600, into one of the work sheds near by. One was black, reechy, weather-worn Great Eastern Railway (G.E.R.) Class Y14 - or L.N.E.R. Class J15, as the latter company's monogram was written on the side of his tender in yellow. He looked very tired, as he was shunted tender first in the front of the row. The two engines after him were in a far worse state: both was dark brown with rust and dirt, and were clearly saved from right under the cutter's torch - one was a badly dented G.W.R. 2251 Class, it's original tender probably already cut up, as right behind him was a brand new, unpainted tender. The other was a London and North Western Railway 1185 Class tank engine, with the back of it's cab and the trailing wheels cut off, secured to the previous one's front coupling via rope. The last one appeared to be a mix between an L.M.S. 8P and a L.M.S. Royal Scot class, specifically, a high-pressure steam design, painted L.M.S. green with red lining, but with long scratches and dents going along his side. He looked very sore.

Finally, after a bit of struggle, the tank engine shunted them into the work shed, and then rolled off towards a nearby water tower for a refill.

"Hey, Andrew!" Euston called out to him.

"Yeah?" he asked back. He wasn't facing them, but he probably recognized the big engine's voice.

"Who were those engines?"

"Refugees from Barry. They have been harbored for years, but recently, they had been rescued by a bunch of fleeing Type 2s, who were also refugees, but they came from Vic Berry's. They're going to be added to the yard's basis fleet, and get this: The old timer in the front wishes to be painted in wartime black, with N.E. on his tender!"

The two steam engines sighed, but Stuck-Up was lost in his thoughts. Type 2's rescuing scrapyard refugees? 'Course, they've also been through that Hell, as they managed to get out from Vic Berry's, but...

He shuddered, remembering the stack of Class 25 carcasses he saw there, piled up sky high. The thought sent the grimace across his face, but he swiftly used it to readjust his monocle.

His eye-glass was also something noteworthy, by the way.

Back on the Other Railway, there were several faulty features about their workplace, one major one being the presence of chavs. Members of the British underclass/"new working class" caused a great deal of trouble to the engines. But one night, Stuck-Up saw a... Different side of these delinquents...

One certain night, due to some calculating tricks and set-ups by his colleges, he found himself locked out of the shed, and ended up parking in an unused goods siding. His rest, however, didn't last long. Around 11 p.m., he found his engine running, with he himself running down the line.

As he was sleeping, a group of local chavs broke into the yard, and, after lurking around a bit, smashing in windows, tagging walls and setting fire to rubbish trucks, they found the express engine, snoozing noisily on the rusty tracks. Turns out, one of them came from a family of railway workers, and had a knack for engines.

So, Old Stuck-Up was hijacked, and in his terror, he didn't shout for help. Part of him was also curious about where he was going.

The chavs took him to an unknown location.

As his eyes got adjusted to the darkness, he found out he was near an unfinished motorway - another mess up a la Torys.

The group was going to have a race with another team, but all of their vehicles had been either wrecked, or towed away. But, since the rails run along the road for on a long length, they decided they'll use a train instead.

The other team only jeered as they set to work - Stuck-Up himself was surprised by their speed and precision.

His windows received a shade.

His other end was crowned with a spoiler.

A new turbocharger, made for both speed and heavy load oriented motors, found it's way into his engine block.

And a new paintjob appeared on him, graffiti-esque, maybe, but surprisingly matching for an elegant express engine - he wasn't quite sure how the lads pulled it off, but as he stared into the water in the canal turned drainage ditch beside the tracks, he couldn't help himself but to feel comfortable in his new paintjob - it matched his personality, or at least a wilder part of him.

He received chassis light, glowing in an azure color, and halogen bulbs for his lamps. He found the former quite ridiculous, but the new bulbs enabled him to see far more further than his normal lights.

The chavs also wanted to connect a NOS tank to his cab, but he refused.

"Leave it to me!" he spoke, now in the spirit of the event, and confident with the plan he had made up.

Finally, it was time for the race.

The other team's car, an pimped out Pontiac Trans-Am, was stopped beside the rails where the tuned engine parked.

In a flash, the Pontiac's engine revved up. In the same time, Stuck-Up's motor roared to life, louder than anytime before, the turbocharger sweeping his exhausts and filters clean, making thick smoke bellow from his pipes, marking his gray roof. His lamps flickered on, and the group, now inside his cabs, put in a heavy metal CD.

In all sense of the word, the engine was ready.

The car revved louder and louder, wheels dragging on the concrete of the unfinished motorway, as the engine licked his lips, readying himself for the task.

And they were off!

Quickly, the car got ahead of them, but it wasn't long before Stuck-Up caught up to the other team, and, with a blow from his horn, elegantly passed by, part of the group flipping the bird at the other team from his rear cab.

That was when their rivals turned to nitro on.

They zoomed pass, leaving a green flame-trail behind, disappearing for a brief moment. The group was upset, but the diesel was still confident.

"Be patient and wait for my signal. We'll have those jokers where we want them in matter of minutes!"

He wasn't wrong.

The other group had went so fast and so far, that their NOX had ran out completely. However, they had arrived to a bend, and couldn't see the Class 40 catching up to them, so they slowed down, and cruised on the cracked, half-done road, smoking C-grade cannabis and drinking cheap liquor, steadily making them drift into a peaceful, yet strong stupor.

They didn't noticed the diesel catching up to them, his lamps and chassis lightning off, and his turbocharger silenced, following the car like a large shadow cast by nothing and no-one. But as his oval buffers came next to the rear bumper of the car, he called out to his temporal drivers.

"NOW! Blow the horn!"

The next second, Stuck-Up's booming, deep secondary air-horn blasted into the air, making even his 'own' group jump.

The blare woke up the other dream from their substance-inducted torpor abruptly, the driver loosing control over the vehicle.

Stuck-Up's eyes went wide, as he saw the Trans-Am tail slide left and right on the road. This miscalculation of possibilities didn't seemed to be heading to an adequate ending, let alone a happy one.

"SLAM ON THE BRAKES!" he yelled. Equally scared, the chavs did so, making him come to a full stop, just as the Pontiac broke through the crash barrier right in front of him, flying across two railway tracks' worth of width, ending up nose first in the boggy drainage ditch beside them.

Initially, the express engine wanted to make sure their rivals were alright - or alive, the very least.

But the chavs wanted to hear nothing of it.

He was put in reverse, and raced all the way back to the very siding he parked early that night. Or was it last night? According to the clock, it was 3 a.m. - he had been away for five hours!

Hurrying, the chavs removed the spoiler, and the chassis lighting, but left the rest - paintwork, window shades, halogen bulbs, and the turbocharger of course. They were about to leave, when the police showed up. Apparently, a late night fitter working overtime had saw Stuck-Up leave the yards, lamps off and without any symbol of permission - no code, no assignment mentioned to the workmen earlier.

It took time for the police to arrive, as there had been numerous accidents and crimes in the city that day - ram raids, mostly. All a cover for the train-thief group to do their business with the rival scallies from the industrial side of town.

Stuck-Up was turned off, and suggested the group to hide in his engine room.

The police did came, and inspected his cab, but found nothing - the badly lit yard made his new paintwork seem like mere graffiti. When they wanted inspect further, he told them off, having a knowledge in bureaucracy and regulations, even of those beyond the rails. Not to mention his hectic and arrogant behavior annoyed the pigs to no end, so they left.

And no sooner they did, the chavs made their way home as well - they wanted to tank the express diesel, but he was fast asleep, exhausted from the night's events.

For a good two weeks, Stuck-Up made Sir Wyatt Fronts very happy - his new turbocharger made him a much faster engine, and he actually arrived on time with his express! The halogen bulbs enabled him to do night runs with ease, even on the most shady parts of the line, as vandals thought him to be part of the police, and scurried away. Also, his new paintwork caught the attention of many, and the Thin Git's smile couldn't have been broader, when donations and extra money arrived from the council, to support a "modern, innovative railway". The snooty engine just swaggered on.

But two weeks after his race, he became a victim:

While taking slow goods to a neighboring electric railway, he passed under an overpass, well in electric territory. Suddenly, an unknown and unnoticed figure flung a long, uninsulated wire over the catenary. It hanged as low as the sleepers, and there was no way the engine could stop in time.

He hit the wire, exposing himself to thousands of volts of electricity. It quickly shorted his engine out, leaving his driver stuck in his cab, as he had turned into a Faraday-cage.

It took time to rescue them, turning off that section of the wiring, and pulling him away, while an electric engine took his train.

His driver was alright, but his motor's electric system had been burned out, his light bulbs blown up by the surge, and he himself feeling clapped out, with two vertical burn marks on his face.

Spamcan pulled him back home, the usually gruff and sardonic goods engine staying respectfully silent.

Bowler took his express while he was mended. This meant that his new paintjob was washed off and replaced with a temporary red one - that was the only paint the workmen had, as their load coming from the industrial district was mysteriously delayed.

But this time, Sir Fronts didn't take seconds thoughts about spending the money he received on the engine rather than on his own delight. After all, he owe to Stuck-Up for two weeks of great success.

In the final day of his hiatus, Stuck-Up was operational again, and still had his turbocharger. He was also equipped with an additional generator to power his coaches, new pneumatic brakes (his old ones being defunct for a long time, meaning he had to use friction-brakes), halogen bulbs again, and naturally, a new motor with a cutting edge electrical system. His window shades had also been taken off, but he didn't mind - he knew it very well that it was dangerous for an engine to have such vision-decreasing complements, swagger or not.

His burn marks had completely healed, and he was practically ready. He even gotten used to his new, crimson paint with a dark gray roof - his face remained yellow.

But on that day's afternoon, he had visitors.

A few from the group of chavs have turned up, checking if he was alright. They explained that the sabotage was the revenge of the other team from the industrial district.

Thanks to Old Stuck-Up, they not only lost the race, but their best car as well.

And as a gift for that stunt, and the accident had head suffered through, they presented him with what appeared to be monocle, made out of a spoke-less bicycle wheel, with ebony framing, and a large, black chain. With a help of a few workmen, they secured the chain to the grid on the side of Stuck-Up's front, and placed the eye-glass on.

He did suffered a minor eye damage to his left eye in the accident - nothing serious, though -, so he was pleasantly surprised when he found out the monocle did improved his eyesight.

"We nicked the glass from an observatory." one of the chavs grinned.

Stuck-Up was most pleased, and grateful, grateful enough to put in a good word for the lads, who soon found themselves honorary members of the Barrow Regional Transit, which, financially speaking, lifted them from their chavhood.

The monocle remained on him since, becoming a part of him, his image, his persona...

But if you would of looked closely, you'd see that, although barely noticeable, the ebony frame of the monocle had Burberry check prints on them.

"Sir Alaric?"

The diesel looked up.

Rarity and Sweetie Belle were trotting towards him across the tracks.

"Rarity? What are you doing here?" he asked "Shouldn't you two be home by now?"

"I fear not." Rarity replied "Your midnight run was cancelled due to a serious connection delay from Phillydelphia. I heard it when we came back to get on a train back to Ponyville. I had agreed to drive you home."

"Oh. Well, that's a pleasant surprise!" the diesel smiled, and opened his cab door.

As the mare and the filly climbed in, there was a booming whistle. The next second, Conrad shot out from the siding beside Stuck-Up.

"Out of my way!" he shouted, and raced off. Rarity and Sweetie could barely make it into the cab.

"Feckless jokel!" the express engine shouted.

"He nearly hit us!" the filly exclaimed from inside his cab.

"Hmph! I shall contact Yard Control at once!" Rarity declared, climbing into the seat.

They rolled off, and after a refill, they set out home - but only went as far as the first signal gantry, WITHIN the yard.

A workcolt came up to them.

"There are two engines that have been based in Trottingham Junction, but haven't been there before. Can you take them with you?"

"Of course!" Rarity replied grandly.

"As long as they go by their own power!" Stuck-Up added.

"Alright!" the stallion chuckled "They're waiting at the first signal box outside the yards!"

The two engines were indeed at the first signal mount, resting in a siding. One was a green L.N.E.R. D16, numbered 8783, with a golden numberplate on his splasher, reading "Phoenix". The other one was a BR Class 127 double-unit diesel railcar, painted Rail Blue with full yellow fronts. He didn't had a name, or number displayed, but a headcode on the panel above his cab - 10751.

He was the first to speak, as Stuck-Up stopped beside the two.

"Are you 40125?" he asked sincerely.

"Indeed I am. But my name is Sir Alaric!" Stuck-Up replied haughtily.

"Oh. Right. Sorry." the railcar replied, now speaking quieter, with even more respect "I'm... 10751. Just 10751. And his name is Phoenix." he added, glancing at the tender engine in front of them.

"Good afternoon!" Phoenix greeted them cheerily "Can you escort us to Trottingham Junction?"

"Certainly!" Rarity replied "Just follow us!"

And they did.

The trip back to Ponyville was longer, as they were now just three cruising engines, not a train of any importance. They had to stop and wait at many signals, and by the time they reached Trottingham, it was well in the evening. Phoenix and 10751 said their goodbyes, and departed to the sheds, where the other engines have been waiting for them. Yeah, they actually were!

The Class 40 and his crew then trundled on, and soon arrived to Ponyville station.

They stopped beside platform 4 for a breather, enjoying the cool air. Rarity and Sweetie Belle had already left his cab, and were now standing beside him, leaning at his side.

"Well... It was a busy day today." Stuck-Up spoke up, summing up his thoughts.

"Indeed." Rarity replied, before turning to her sister "Do you have enough material for your report?"

"I think so." Sweetie replied "Although..."

"Hang on!" the diesel interrupted them "What's going on over there?"

Platform 2 was crowded by ponies. Anxious ponies.

Beside the platform stood Pip & Emma's train, all doors open.

The engine and the two ponies exchanged glances.

"You two should go there, and find out what's going on." Stuck-Up declared.

"Right." the two replied in unison, and left for Platform 2.

Doctor Whooves was there, trying to calm the passengers.

"What's the matter?" Rarity asked, walking up to him.

"The train's stalled!" the Doctor explained in a hurry "Pip's engine overheated, and the weight was too much for Emma. She can still be restarted, but she won't be able to push the train on her own."

"Then get another engine!" Rarity advised. The Doctor rolled his eyes in an annoyed manner.

"That's what I'm been trying to do in the past twenty minutes! Thank Celestia they were AHEAD of schedule!"

Rarity thought for a moment.

"Why don't we use Sir Alaric?" she asked. The stallion spun around.

"Who?!"

"Errrm... Old Stuck-Up?" the mare tried.

"Oh! 40125, you mean?" the Time Lord/Yard Manager/Station Master asked back "We could, but... There's no way he could pull, OR push this train!" he went on, pointing a hoof at Pip's streamlined front.

"Hmmm... Well, yes. That's inconvenient..." the mare muttered.

Sweetie Belle, who had been sitting with a pondering face since about a time, suddenly jumped, eyes sparkling!

"I got it!" she exclaimed, successfully making everpony look at her.

"You got... What?" the Doctor asked.

"I know how to get Stuck-Up to pull this train. But he won't be pulling it... OR pushing it!"

The Doctor and the fashionista just stared, utterly confused. The passengers exchanged puzzled looks.

"...Sweetie Belle!" her sister asked "Whatever do you mean?"

"It's simple!" the filly replied "If Stuck-Up can't PULL or PUSH the train, he should do both! From the middle!"

"WHAT?!" everyone asked.

"It's something I saw back in Manehattan." the ivory filly explained "A steam engine was moving some coal trucks, pushing one line from behind, while pulling another which was coupled behind it. Emma could still move, right? If we separate the train in the middle, and put Old Stuck-Up in there, he and Emma will surely be able to take it to wherever it's destination is! He IS an express engine, after all!"

Stuck-Up had heard all, and while he only groaned (and swore) when thinking of the extra job, he smiled inwardly.

"Clever filly."

The train was soon arranged.

Philippa, now unable to move on her own, had agreed (quite obviously) to keep a look out for signals and such. Emma was started again, her engine already cooled out over the time they waited there, and was ready to go. Stuck-Up...

Claimed he was BORN ready.

"I'm BUILT ready!" he replied contently to the Doctor from between to coaches. All the passengers have climbed back into the coaches. Emma and Stuck-Up's engine revved up. The guard blew his whistle, and, with engines roaring up, the train began to move.

"Ouuh!" the Class 40 groaned uncomfortably, feeling the strain on both of his couplings. Slowly but surely, they left the station, and rolled out onto the open line, where they began to pick up speed.

They passed through junctions, signals and unscheduled stations - ponies and engines alike, cheering as they ran pass.

Every time they approached another station where they had to stop, Pip blew her horn, and both Stuck-Up and Emma braked hard to stop the train, high-speed once again. Finally, they left the last station behind, and headed for Canterlot.

"How late are we?" the express engine asked.

"About five minutes, but we still made good time, after being stalled like that!" Pip replied.

"Five minutes..." Rarity pondered "Do you think we can make it there on time, Alaric?"

"I don't think so..." Stuck-Up replied.

"Aw, c'mon, Sir Al!" Sweetie encouraged him "You're an express engine! You haven't been late, not even a second, since you arrived!"

"Oh yeah? I haven't been on time for twenty five years flat before I arrived to Equestria!"

"...That's the past! You can do this, Stuck-Up!"

"You know what? You're right! I CAN do this! And I WILL! Let's go!" and he charged on, going faster and faster. Emma soon found the train getting lighter. Then, she suddenly found herself being pulled by it!

Rarity was keeping an eye on the speedometer.

134 miles per hour.

136

138

140

"We're over 140 miles per hour!" she cried out, trying to shout over the roar of the motor behind them.

"What?" Stuck-Up asked back, unable to hear her through the noise of his own engine.

142

144

146

147

145

143

"We're losing speed!" Sweetie Belle yelled "Come on, Sir Alaric, you can do this!"

That, somehow, reached through the din, along with a barely audible whisper from Rarity.

"You can do it, Stuck-Up!"

His engine growled with renewed energy. Both ponies' eyes were plastered on the speedometer.

145

146

147

148

"That's the fastest any diesel had ever went!" Sweetie gasped.

147

148

147

146

147

148

149

"OH MY GOSH!" Sweetie shout, turning to her sister "Sis! Stuck-Up did it! He's the fastest diesel on the world!"

Rarity didn't reply.

"Sis?"

"...He's... Still doing it."

150

153

156

159

163

167

171

176

181

187

193

"TWO HUNDRED!" Rarity screamed "WE'RE GOING FASTER THAN TWO HUNDRED MILES PER HOUR!"

...But her voice was drowned in the thunderous roar of the diesel's motor.

At the gates of Canterlot, the train, still running (rocketing) steadily at the speed of 200 miles per hour, began to slow down, albeit very gently to lessen to impact of the momentum on the passengers. But this deceleration wasn't the work of the drivers - Emma's driver was still a state of shock, Pip's had passed out, and Rarity and Sweetie Belle were in a sort of trance, eyes fixated on the speedometer.

Not one, not two, but THREE force fields caught the impromptu bullet train as it crossed the gates. One, glowing bright white, put the passengers at ease, calming their nerves, and temporarily "switching off" gravity on their bodies, so as to save them from the inevitable thrust of the stopping train. Another, ethereal dark blue, grabbed hold of the train itself, gently but firmly bringing it to a halt. The third one, a two-tone gray, reached into the machinery itself, turning off the overrun engines, cooling hot axleboxes, and steadily increasing the pressure on the air brakes.

The signalmares and colts were still given a hard time, letting the rapid train through the yards without any accidents. Finally, after what seemed like ages, Pip finally stopped, inches from the buffers.

Opening one eye, she glanced around. Opening both, she looked up. On the platform stood Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, and Alexei, the foreign, stick-figure-like God, all partially in railway officer attires: Red, dark blue and gray peaked caps with a slightly altered BR double arrows symbol on, blue coats displaying name and position, and, well, that just about sums it up.

It took exactly one second for the High-Speed Diesel to comprehend the sight. Then...

"WOOOOOOTHATWASTOTALLYAWESOMEWEHADBROKENTHESPEEDRECORDOFOUROWNKINDCANWEDOITAGAIN?!" she jabbered euphorically, still on an adrenalin high.

The three deities exchanged looks.

"No. It's too terrifying of a stunt to repeat!" Celestia spoke sternly "We're glad all of you are still in one piece."

"Thanks to us!" Luna added crossly "How did you even managed to go that fast?! You're type, as far as I know, can only go as fast as 148 miles per hour!"

"Wasn't me!" Pip replied, now a bit ashamed "My engine's out! You should ask Emma or Stuck-Up."

"We'd like to speak to your driver first!" Alexei spoke up. Pip looked a bit embarrassed.

"Then you better get some smelling salt."

"Oh."

Emma was still in a state of shock when the three gods teleported to her.

"Never... Again..." she muttered to herself "Never. Fucking. Again!"

It was almost comical to see the usually cutesy-poo engine so ruddy serious, if it wouldn't been equal amounts disturbing as well.

Her driver, woke from his own shock, explained that Emma's engine had been turned off after the train started to TOW her rather than being PUSHED by her.

Which draw the deities to a surprising conclusion:

"If it wasn't Pip..."

"Or Emma..."

"Then... It could only be..."

And they ran towards the center of the train.

Number 40125, Sir Alaric English Electric, or Old Stuck-Up, as his delinquent colleges happened to call him, did his best. Truly.

After all, he was working as a middle engine, bound to go slow, even with another engine pushing the train from behind, and, express engine or not, he had his limits. But now, he had pushed his limits beyond expectations.

As he heaved and panted loudly, oily sweat running down his yellow, metallic face. His monocle popped of from his eye, leaving a round mark around it, after being pushed into his "flesh" by the emulation. His mind still hazy from the loss of oxygen, all he could do was make tired attempts at fixating his breath.

Rarity and Sweetie Belle slowly woke from their unconsciousness. While their eyes were transfixed on the meters before their eyes, in a trance after they passed the magic 200, it was evident that they wouldn't notice the magically conjured force fields, and would end up being knocked back by it, with the momentum then swiftly knocking them back forth, head-butting the control panel. The deceleration successfully plastered their foreheads onto the plastic, but thankfully, with a bit of unicorn trickery, they were able to get off...

Opening the cab door, they tumbled out into the crowd surrounding the engine. And instantly, the gathering of ponies burst into cheers, congratulating them on their fine work. From a five minute delay, they made excellent time, and actually arrived TEN minutes early! Sure, it was a rad ride, but it was worth it! They had broken every rail speed record in Equestria!

They've also broken the record of the fastest diesel engine(s)'s on planet Earth, but that was beside the point - as the ponies didn't knew about that at all.

Laying flat on their stomach, to tired to even respond.

"Sis..." Sweetie Belle whispered "I'm going to say something which I'll probably NEVER going to say again..."

"Yes?"

"I wanna go to bed..."

The crowd suddenly went quiet. Too tired to stay fully conscious, the mare and the filly closed their eyes. Before Sweetie did so, she saw three figures walking through the crow, which separated to give them space - lots of it, actually.

They were woken by Stuck-Up's gasp.

"Y-Your Majesties!"

Instantly, the two ponies shot right up, standing once again, with a little stagger. The two princesses, and the Flat Controller looked down at them... Smiling?

"Princess Celestia! Princess Luna!" the ivory filly exclaimed "And... Mr. Alexei, right?"

"Indeed." the lanky figure replied kindly "Where here to congratulate you."

"Congratulate us?" the diesel asked "But why? We've probably broken every speed and safety regulation ever to be made in railway his..."

"Never mind that!" Princess Luna smiled "You might have done that, but it was for making up for lost time!" she began to smirk "And you did exactly that, in fact, you did it so well, you arrived early! AND you've broken more than one speed record!"

"I've received Prince Blueblood's overlook on your machinist qualities." Celestia added, whipping out clipboard with a few pages on it "Good to know he's ACTUALLY doing his job." she mumbled to herself, as she read the pages.

"He praised you to no end." Luna explained to Rarity "And called 40125, quote, 'a most valuable, important asset of the railway, truly remarkable and strong, both mechanism and mentality-wise'."

The diesel gave a tired, but prideful smile. Rarity and Sweetie joined in, as Celestia finally looked up.

"All right, all set." she declared, "handing" the clipboard to Alexei "I think it is needless to say that your trial as express train engineer was ultimately successful! Rarity Belle, as Princess and Chairmare of Equestrian Rail, I'm pleased, and after such awe-inspiring stunt, honored to announce that you're now officially the honorable member of the railway. Mind though, your position here is high in class, first class that is, as you're specifically an express driver." she finished.

Rarity was speechless. She just smiled broadly, a happy tear escaping her eye. Her little sister also beamed proudly.

"And!" the Princess of the Night, now railway inspector of some sort continued "I'd also like to announce, that diesel locomotive number 40125, Sir Alaric English Electric is now "your" engine. He may be driven by others, but you are his official driver."

"AND!" Alexei added "Sir Alaric, more commonly known as Old Stuck-Up... I'm most pleased to announce that on your journey from Ponyville station to here, Canterlot Central, you have managed to accelerate to the point where you went faster than two hundred miles per hour for a good five minutes of your trip, specifically, two hundred and FIVE miles per hour, thus setting a new record for all diesel engines in Equestria - possibly even the world! For that..."

He stopped, and pulled out a grand, blue and golden ribbon from an inner pocket of his coat, and placed in the side of the engine by a magnet on the back. Inside it was pin with a bright red Number 1 on a BR symbol on it.

"It... *huff* It was n-nothing... *huff* Sire..." the diesel smiled.

There was a loud CLANK!

And Old Stuck-Up came crashing down onto the rails, cursing out loud in pain, ending up sitting in an awkward position... On his chassis...

After the cacophony died down, the younger princess called out.

"What has happened, Stuck-Up?"

The engine looked away sheepishly, embarrassment printed all over his face.

"Weeell..." he muttered awkwardly "My wheels MAY or MAY NOT have popped off my axles..."

The Princesses, the foreign deity, and the two pony sisters stared at him, bemused, as the workponies rushed over to check for any damage.

Celestia just shook her head, and turned back to the unicorns.

"Sweetie Belle." she spoke gently "Step forward!"

The filly proceeded.

"Thanks to your ingenuity, this train could arrive on time, what's more, you've made a contribution in breaking the record of the fastest diesel engines in the world!"

"Now, you're not old enough to join the railway..." the Flat Controller explained "But, for all of your contribution, we'd like to give you, and your sister two tokens of our gratitude. One..." and he handed her a bright red peaked cap, similar to the his, but with horizontally stretched BR logo on it. Smiling ever-so-proudly, Sweetie Belle placed it on. It was too big for the filly's head, but her horn kept it from covering her eyes.

"And two." the figure went on "If your parents will check their bank accounts, anytime soon, they'll be in for a surprise: ONE BILLIARD BITS added to each of their accounts. You know, a little something to buy candy and material with.

It was that moment that Rarity's jaw hit the ground.

"WHUAT?!" she gasped.

"Come on, now!" Luna soothed her "Don't worry, we're not taking the taxpayers' money to you. It's actually Alexei paying from his own pockets!"

"But... How could you afford it?" Sweetie asked. The deity just shrugged his shoulder.

"Hey, I'm a god. What do you think, where do all the engines across the country and the provinces get their daily load of coal, water, oil, and alcohol. These things, especially coal and alcohol, cost fortunes in Equestria, especially in the amount we require it!" he went on "And also, most of Equestria's soil is completely devoid of petroleum. I have to conjure it up along with the other three! So what's a few bits if I already hold up a bloody economy?" he chuckled.

Rarity was speechless.

"But why so much, still?" she finally blurted out after a few minutes of awkward silence. The god smiled.

"I don't know if YOU noticed, but you also made YOUR contribution in making the train arrive safely, aside from being Stuck-Up's driver. When you lot passed through our force field, we felt an enormous magical force surrounding the entire train, like an aura. That aura held the train together along the journey. Without it, the acceleration would of torn the couplings apart, and there would been a terrible accident." he explained "This aura was YOURS. You kept it alive all along, assuring the safety of everyone on board, which is not only noble, but damn impressive as well! That's why I'm giving you lot such amount of money."

The royal sisters exchanged looks.

"Anyways..." Celestia spoke up "I think there's something you'll have to write, Sweetie Belle."

"A Friendship report?" the filly asked.

"Not exactly." the solar princess replied "But a report, anyway... That's why you've spent your day with your sister, now didn't you?"

Sweetie Belle was awed.

"Princess Celestia! Do you know everything?!"

The alicorns chuckled.

"Less than what you imagine..." Luna replied "So... A report, is it?"

"Can't be worse than the Beeching report!" the diesel barked in from the side.

Again, Celestia and Luna just exchanged puzzled looks, while Alexei chuckled.

"But... How am I going to write it? It's already late, and I've done nothing! I just took notes."

"That's quite enough" Celestia smiled "'Cause I'm going to get you the help of Equestria's BEST homework writer!"

And on cue, Twilight Sparkle appeared.

"Anypony called?"

"And presenting us her report today is... Sweetie Belle!"

With a lump in her throat, the filly rose from her desk, and walked out, in front of the class, to the center of the blackboard, as Miss Cheerilee gave her space... Fiddling a bit with her notes, she cast a quick peek at her peers. Her friends, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo and Twist were, of course, rooting for her. Even Snips and Snails, the class' dim jokers were cheering quietly for her. As predicted, Diamond Tiara just yawned and turned her gaze away from her, casting a knowing glance at Silver Spoon. The gray filly, on the other hand, was, at LEAST, staring towards her direction, eyes blank of course. Given the fact that she WAS from an actual noble family (unlike her friend, who's father 'just' came from a family line of very successful entrepreneurs), she was given a much better education in etiquette and manners from her parents. As common with nobility originating from the North-western part of Equestria, her family had a thing for discipline. This has eased over the generations, but still, Silver Spoon knew HOW to act in public.

"Yesteryear, I made a report on my sister, Rarity, who, as you might know, Ponyville's only fashion designer, owner of Carouse Boutique, and one of the most famous fashionistas in Equestria."

The class emitted a groan.

"Mediocre laborer at best." Diamond Tiara muttered to her friend "Good sense in fashion, though..."

"Shush!" whispered Silver Spoon. Her friend's rude comments had gotten them into trouble a couple of times by now, and she was NOT willing to risk her grades for another of Diamond's retorts. Not again.

"This time, I wrote about my sister, Rarity, again..."

A more audible groan ascended from the class.

"BUT!" Sweetie went on "This time, from a completely different perspective, altogether!"

THIS caught everyone's attention.

Sweetie Belle was famous (infamous, even notorious) for her lexical knowledge. But not her lexical SKILLS. It was rare from her to actually use the difficult words she could detail. So, naturally, this made everybody interested.

Wondering, waiting, and skeptic looks mixed in the crowd.

With a deep breath, her report truly began...

"As you might know, recently, Equestria's biggest transporting system, the railway, had grown larger than it was, and received new trains. These, however, not any trains. They've came from another world, and, if any of you visited Ponyville Railway station recently, you would notice they aren't exactly "lifeless objects". In fact, they're quite alive, and intelligent. These living machines came from a world, which, as I found out, is much more crueler and darker than ours. Thus, they are a bit embittered and grouchy at times, but all the same, they work hard with no fuss..." Sweetie continued "Now, allow me to tell you about my sister, Rarity, now a honorable member of Equestrian Rail, and not just simple workmare, too: She's the selected driver of the Canterlot Express!"

Everyone gasped.

"WHAT?!" the two snobbish fillies gaped.

"Wow!" Scootaloo cheered "That's amazing! Wait..." her eyes went wide.

"What's the matter, Scootaloo?" Cheerilee asked.

"Yesterday night, the midnight express was cancelled." the orange filly explained "Instead, a commuter train was brought to Canterlot by the local express engine, after the two engines pulling it broke down, overheated or something. Now, that very train broke the speed record of Equestria's fastest train ever!"

"I know." the alabaster filly replied calmly "My sister was driving that train. And I was with her..."

She smirked. Everyone was paying attention now. With a proud smirk, she went on...

"Well, this certainly... Lifted the veil from a few things..." Alexei muttered.

"What do you mean?" Prince Blueblood asked, putting his railwaypony coat onto the hanger.

"The little feat that Rarity and Old Stuck-Up had put up last night revealed a few things to me..." the humanoid spoke thoughtfully "Promising in a short distance, but in longer terms... I'm not sure... It remains uncertain to me..."

"Promising? How so?" Princess Luna asked, breaking her gaze away from the bustling capital beneath them.

The foreign god didn't reply...

"Alexei?" Celestia asked "Alex?"

"Alex?" the stickly figure asked back with a smirk "Are we that much aquinted now... Celly?"

The elder princess deadpanned, before bursting out into a short, hearty laugh...

"Hey! That name's for FAMILY. MEMBERS. ONLY!" Luna snapped, more annoyed than angry.

"Is that so... Lulu?" the deity smirked smugly, flinching the alicorn mare's nose. Blueblood was most amused...

"The nerve...!" she chuckled, shaking his head, before receiving a great big noggie from the immortal controller of the railway.

"A, shut up, Blue!"

When everybody stopped laughing, the Princess of the night asked again.

"So, what are those positive sights that you've seen?"

The god replied with a thoughtful look.

"The sheer displays of power..." he explained "As all of you probably now, the spell Rarity Belle has cast onto the train, even if it was a mere gravitational pull and stabilizing spell, would needed the strength and stamina of an alicorn to accomplish. Of course, an alicorn, as far as I know, could handle such basic spells with ease, but it still takes that amount of strength to even conjure it. And, if what Twilight wrote to you is true, Rarity is actually the LESS powerful unicorn of the Elements of Harmony." he went on "On the other hand, while Stuck-Up IS an express engine, there's simply NO way that he could of brought that train up to that speed, especially on his own!"

"So what your saying is that Rarity also sped him up?" the Prince asked, amazed.

"I think it's more mutual." came the reply "We have told you about the Elements of Hatred and Defiance, haven't we?"

"Aaaah, yeah, yes, Aunt Celestia did." Blueblood replied "There are seven on both sides, plus two additional ones that don't belong to either sides, and pairs from the two sides can form a third row of devastating new elements."

"However..." the deity spoke to him "I forgot to mention that the Dark and Light ones also COMPLETE each other, keeping balance, and the Dim ones locked up tight, so they may not cause any harm. Together, they can make each other stronger, as they balance each other, dynamically revolving around one another, giving immense power to their possessors." he came to a conclusion "What we had witnessed yesterday was clearly a display of that effect being in action, both Rarity and Stuck-Up went completely beyond the limits their physical bodies possess. This means that they're one of the contrast pairs...

"Wait, do you know of any other pairs?" Celestia asked. Alexei didn't reply at first. He was thinking...

"I have... Assumptions... Rarity and Stuck-Up being one of the pairs was one of my ideas. And I'm quite surprised to see them to be the first one to show up."

"Anyways..." Blueblood spoke up" We have this case to look into. An engine named Conrad, or Carlos, or something, causing trouble in Manehattan's Freight Yard.

"Carlos?" Alexei asked back, before smirking, as familiar lyrics floated into his mind...

"Is he Gay or European, Gay or European, that's the elephant in the room..."

The others just stared at him...

Episode 5 - WOOLLYBURR

WOOLLYBURR

"Wheew! That was doozy!" the pink pony exclaimed as she stopped jittering "The writer must have made a reference to not one, but two different things!"

The others looked at her with awe.

"You alright, Pinkie?" Rainbow asked, looking up from her breakfast. It was very early in the morning, and the mares had gathered in the workponies' buffet, enjoying a meal together, before each of them went on with their daily routine. Nearly every weekend now, usually on Saturday, the Mane Six joined the rest of the workponies.

The Mane Six, and Spike, were asked directly by Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, and Alexei, the foreign God of Defiance who had came along the engines (now controller of the railway, Equestrian Rail), to visit the local yard and sign up for work, weekly if possible. One by one, the mares and the dragon tried out railwaymareship, and found it - especially since they only had to do it once a week - delightfully easy, but also satisfyingly challenging the same time.

Cloud Kicker and Flitter, the drivers of the High-Speed Twins, Pip & Emma, had also joined them for some nourishment, along with Rainbow Dash... But she only came for the food... The pegasus was yet to sign up for rail work - she always found weather work to be done (or excuses), to avoid the princess' request - she could, after all, they weren't ordered to join the rails, but unbeknownst to her, her friends found this 'post-ponying' increasingly annoying. However, at the moment, they were more concerned about Pinkie than Rainbow's behavior.

Their friend had just experienced a full-body twitch, a sign of her Pinkie Sense, a predicting power she somehow possessed. She knew the outcome of a few certain twitches, but a full-body jitter could have multiple outcomes, usually described by her as a "doozy" - usually one HELL of a doozy.

"Don't worry, girls! It's nothing serious." Pinkie explained. The others gave a relieved sigh, and returned to their meal.

"Although, we may have a visitor." the mare suddenly added.

"WHAT?!" the others gasped.

The Doctor walked in.

"Oh." they sighed, relieved that the doozy burned out in this...

Or so they thought...

After the doctor had informed them about the days assignments - and, once again, encouraged Rainbow to actually JOIN in, which she, once again, refused, excusing herself with work (despite the clear sky) - the ponies set out to do their jobs.

"Good morning, Pinkie!" the fluorescent green tank engine greeted her. He had six small wheels, a short, stumpy funnel, a short, stumpy boiler, and short, stumpy ****, err, I mean, dome and whistle.

"Good morning, Steamie!" the pink pony replied cheerfully "Ready to work this morning?"

"Of course I am!" the tank engine replied "Ready as I'll ever be!"

So Pinkie stepped inside the cab. She lit Steamie's fire, which, completely unnaturally, AND going against the nature of water and physics (thought, not that of HiT Entertainment's), instantly boiled the the water in Steamie's boiler, creating steam.

Pinkie opened the throttle, released the brakes, and set the reverser forward. Hissing, the Hunslet Austerity tank rolled forward, out of the sheds, onto the turntable, from which he left to the yard.

The yard was filled many different kinds of rolling stock - coaches, vans, flatbeds, tankers, hoppers, gondolas, and normal goods trucks as well, all waiting to be arranged - all in a good days work. With Diesel being in charge of the larger, northern side of the yard, dealing with mixed freight and passenger wagons, and 'Arry & Bert in charge of the heavy industrial freight in the area, the little engine was left responsible with the lightweight goods on the southern sidings.

He now rolled into the yard, eyeing up the trucks... His job for the day mainly consisted of shunting, but in the late afternoon, he would have to assist a new diesel, and possibly a new driver along with it. Said diesel was scheduled to arrive at noon. He had until that to arrange the trucks. Quickly, the two friends started working. They begun with the coal trucks, as that load was the easiest to arrange - one long line. The trucks themselves, arrived from three different mines - one near by, close to the mountains, brought for every station within their section of the railway, one big load of high-quality coal from Stalliongrad which needed to be transferred to Phillydelphia, and a third load of special coal ordered from Eagleland for testing. The special coal was Manehattan Central, which was on one end of their section of the line, so the truck containing the Eagleland coal had to be shunted on either side of the line of trucks which's load was for the local stations, as either them, or a shunting engine at Manehattan could have taken the truck "out" of the train, after the trucks from Stalliongrad had been disconnected at the Canterlot province-Phillydeplhia borders.

"Morning, Pinkie Pie! Morning, Steamie!"

"Good morning, Thunder Lane!" they greeted the black furred pegasus. He had also signed up for the program, and was selected as one of the shunters in the yard. This made him cross, as he wished to be a driver. But, nevertheless, he did his job earnestly. Most of the time.

"You forgot your safety helmet again!" Steamie warned him, as he handed the clipboard containing the data pages about the trucks. Pinkie read them with the utmost care, attention and precaution - she was willing to prove her responsibility.

Meanwhile, Steamie kept looking around the yard. A novice engine he may have been, but he was also well trained for shunting by then.

What Steamie noticed now that the trucks for the local coal run weren't connected together properly, and their brakes were off. Also, at the middle of the siding, there was a switch that led to a shorter one where the special coal was at - and the tank engine couldn't see whether the switch was set to that siding or not, nor could he see just what was at the end of that short track. The Stalliongradian coal was already arranged into a tidy row, all trucks connected together, brakes firmly on. The only problem was that they were on the wrong siding. Steamie was about to ask Thunder Lane about the conditions of the local coal trucks, when he heard his driver speak up.

"Aaall-right! All set! Thank you, Thunder Lane! We'll begin with the coal that goes to Phillydelphia!"

"OK. Move them to the long siding, then get the local run arranged. You can't reach the special load unless the you take those trucks off that line."

"Understood!" Pinkie replied, saluting. Climbing back into Steamie, she put an extra lump of coal into his firebox, and reversing from the siding, they went for the row of trucks. Thunder Lane and the other shunter workponies were already releasing the brakes, and by the time Steamie rolled up behind the line, all brakes were released, but the trucks were still connected to the buffer stop. A shunter quickly fastened the coupling between the tank engine and the trucks, while another uncoupled the line from the buffers.

This part of the yard was not as well equipped as the other side. Thus, the shunters could only use one, white or yellow colored flag per person, and one, uncolored lamp. They had to learn the motion signals: Waving the flag up and down meant "Go!". Waving it in a broad, circular motion meant "Stop!" (waving it in this motion furiously meant "OMG yer gonna crash! STOP FOR F*CK SAKE!"), and waving it in a horizontal, shooing movement meant "Reverse!". Holding it diagonally for a moment between to motioning waves meant "Slowly!".

Pinkie peaked out from the cab.

'Go! Slowly!' was the signal.

Now, what you must know is that Stalliongrad Oblast has a wider gauge, a broad gauge track system set up all around the country, with narrow gauge lines barely narrower than the Equestrian Standard. Thus, engines and rolling stock alike are far more bigger - especially the new ones that came from the human world (because, unlike the rest of Equestria, where the railways' and railroads' original, equine-made machinery had been withdrawn, they still used them, at least the engines, in Stalliongrad). But every and each had adjustable axles, so they can roll on foreign rail (the Standard gauge, at least). The trucks that came from the northern province were considerably larger than that of the Other Railway's trucks. They were still two-axle, wooden trucks, but with inner steel rib reinforcement and a much heavier chassis. Also, they were fully loaded with the rich, pure, Anthracite-quality coal that came from up North - heavy calories. Thankfully, they were much more disciplined and obedient than the trucks around the yard, but Steamie still found them hard to move.

"Do come along! Do come along!" he wheeshed, his wheels spinning feverishly on the rails, metal grinding to metal, as he feebly tried to move the heavy trucks.

"We would, try harder! We would, try harder!" the trucks creaked back encouragingly. Slowly, they inched forward.

"You're doing it! You're doing it!" they clanked. The train began to pick up pace. They soon reached the spot where the rails were sanded, and with that newfound traction, the little engine could go on with less struggling.

After shunting the heavy train onto the siding, they went for the local coal trucks...

Now, Pinkie also noticed they weren't connected to each other, but she figured they first needed to be shunted into a row.
She failed to notice the switch in the middle of the siding, left clear between two trucks.

Thunder Lane, too, had failed to do something (aside from showing up on Hurricane Day): he failed to warn her that she mustn't "fly shunt" the trucks.

Fly shunt meant that instead of coupling up to them, the engine merely pushed, or what's more, biffed the trucks together. Now, usually, mineral loads such as coal didn't needed that much care, but this case, it was different. The points in the middle of the siding had jammed, so the first part of the train would inevitably roll onto the line where the special coal was. Neither engine or driver/firemare had been informed about the malfunction, or about the prohibition. Stopping on the end of the siding, Steamie let off a bit of steam. He had forgotten about the peculiar condition of the trucks, and was eager to biff them around a bit. He never biffed them hard enough to hurt them (mainly because he was quite a wimp), but he annoyed the trucks, nevertheless... They were, however, terrified about Steamie's singing, fabled to be so horrible that it drove a line of trucks so desperate that they smashed their own selves into pieces. On the contrary, in kept them in line (no pun intended), and beside it, there was Pinkie's singing. The pink pony could find the tone with just about anyone when it came to singing, and the trucks were no different. After Steamie shared a few lyrics he heard from the other engines that the trucks seemed to enjoy (their own mockery tunes), the young mare quickly found a way to get the mischievous wagons do as she wished.

Cheerfully, Steamie blew his whistle, as Pinkie made him shot forward, bumping the first truck.

It ran forward, bumping into the second, stopping... But the second rolled on. It hit the third truck with much more momentum, also stopping, even rolling back a bit, but the third truck rattled on, bashing into the fourth, which in turn, sped down the line... There was more distance between the fourth and the fifth truck than between all the others. The fourth truck hit the fifth with an almighty crash, nearly derailing it. It literally shot backwards after the collision, but stopped quite soon...
Unlike the fifth truck.

Because that was the last truck before the switch. Going incredibly fast, it raced down the tracks, nearly falling on it's side when hitting the points and veering into the short siding. It smashed into the truck containing the special coal so hard, that chunks of their loads flew out, got mixed, or simply poured onto the embankment... This time, the truck didn't stop. It went so fast that it actually pushed the other along, it's brakes have been knocked loose by the impact. Skidding down the short siding, they thundered towards the hurst piled up at the end of the siding as an emergency stop, two pre-stressed concrete sleepers crossed on the rails a few meters before them. The first truck hit the sleepers, successfully crushing them and derailing it's first axle, while the second merely pushed the rubble out of the way...

The two fleeing trucks hid the sandbank with a loud thud, the first one flying up, demolishing the lump's top, and falling down on the other side, now without it's wheels, and parts of it's chassis, landing with a crash, it's front side smashing into smithereens, it's content being hurled out of it, scattering in the concrete covered yard beyond the bank. The second truck hit the first, it's sides breaking into splinters as it's frame bent in, coal flying everywhere, as it fell to it's side from the bank, whatever coal that had miraculously remained in it was now laid out on the ground, mixing with the special coal.

Back at the end of the siding, in the crossfire of the mortified gazes of the remaining trucks, the small steam engine felt like sinking into the ground, as a puddle of melting iron. Pinkie didn't looked much happier, either, trying to make herself look smaller than she actually was, looking very worried indeed.

From the other side of the yards, Diesel had seen the entire accident, and only snorted:
"Hah! Serves you right for being careless! AND that idiot shunter, Thunder Lane!"
And with that, he rumbled off, Twilight scolding him along the way.

As the wreckage was being cleaned up, Dr. Whooves sternly ordered the pink mare to arrange what remained of the train, and after doing so, they stopped on the siding next to the train. A very annoyed looking Doctor walked up to them.

The engine squirmed, and Pinkie felt more guilty (and afraid) than ever. Doctor Whooves eyed them up crossly, before closing his eyes, and letting out a sigh.

- Although the accident wasn't your fault in overall, you still should have waited for the shunters to ensure everything was right! - he said sternly, making both perpetrator wince. The Doctor was kind, gentlecoltly stallion, quite pacific most of the time, but if it came work, or messing with time (or, combining the two, messing with timetables), he would become very fierce, which often scared the workponies - but not the engines (aside from Steamie).

"However..." the Doctor went on darkly "Thunder Lane was in charge of the shunting team here, and his laggard work ethics had already given me quite a lot of headache. I'd fire him, to be frank..." the brown earth pony muttered "But he isn't a full time employee, just a spare worker. So, he'll have to deal with the overtime work to pay up for the damage. In the next few months..."

The mare cringed. She REALLY didn't wanted to be in the pegasus' horseshoes right now.

"As for you!" the Doctor went on, making them jump a bit "You two shall collect an extra load of coal for the local run. The special coal can wait for another time. Take a shortcut using the Apple side track. - and with that, he trotted off, muttering about paperwork and human faultiness within equines..."

When they returned from the mines, a bit scruffy, but fine otherwise, they found their side of the yard already arranged. Carefully, Steamie shunted the truck to the end of the train, then stopped beside the water tower for a nice, long drink. HiT-physics or not, he was still just a tank engine.

As his tank filled up, Pinkie looked around for anything interesting. Her eyes soon caught something, and for a moment, the smile disappeared from her face.

There, at the passenger station, on the very end of Platform 3 was Gilda the griffon, talking to Dr. Whooves, the two clearly in some sort of discussion. The Doctor seemed to be trying to convince her about something, and Gilda, though looking increasingly annoyed, seemed to be accepting, eventually smiling as well.

"Is that... Gilda?" Steamie asked, bemused. Pinkie, without giving a second thought about the engine's knowledge about Rainbow Dash's former friend, gleefully bounced around.

"That's so awesome! Now I can throw a "Gilda's Back!" party! Oh, oh, and maaaybeee she'll make it up with Rainbow Dash! Then we could throw a "Friends Again!" party as well! This'll be sooo great, I..."

"Errr... Pinkie?" Steamie spoke up, his Londonian accent suddenly shining out "Ya sure that Gilda, out of all persons, would like a party thrown by you?"

Pinkie stopped in front of him, smiling broadly.

"'Course she would! Everybody likes parties! Especially a Pinkie Pie Party!" she added, a bit smugly. Steamie didn't looked convinced.

"But why would you throw a party for her? She was... Quite a party pooper last time..."

Now, for the first time that day, Pinkie took a good look on her mechanical friend. Then smiled knowingly.

"Ah. Poor Steamie, you spend too much time with those oily, smoggy, grouchy diesels!"

"Pinkie Pie!" the tank engine snapped "That's VERY racist!"

The mare was taken aback.

"S-Sorry!" she peeped, thoroughly ashamed. Her smile returned then "Anyways, their grumpiness is growing on you! Why WOULDN'T I throw a party for her? Everyone deserves a second chance, AND a party, above all!"

"But are you sure she'll like it? Or even come after being invited, for that matter?" the tank engine went on, now sounding more mature than before - I mean, last time, she got the wrong impression about you, and stormed off, loosing Rainbow Dash as a friend. Why would she even WANT to come to your party, after such events? Besides, your FRIENDS like your parties. And not even every one of them. She's not even your friend!

Now, it was Pinkie who sat down, pondering...

"I think..." Steamie added "Even if she did came back to make up with Rainbow Dash, she still... Pretty much wishes you'd be in Hell... So if I were you, I'd avoid her."

"Why?" the mare asked, naively...

"Well... I don't know her enough to judge her character, nor do I have the right to do it, but I think..." the engine muttered "If she would see you, she'd give you a beating."

Again, the mare was taken aback.

"N-Naaah..." she muttered, uncertainly "She wouldn't do THAT... Would she?"

"Trust me, I'm talking from experience..." the tank engine replied. "She's a griffon. Sharp claws, sharp beak, carnivorous... I'd won't try with her."

At that moment, the above named looked towards them. Instantly, Pinkie zapped behind Steamie, who became the subject of the griffon's gaze. He held it up, staring back at her with a nonchalant look. Finally, Gilda turned away, and walked off with the Doctor towards the northern sidings.

"Wait a minute!" the engine exclaimed "She has some business here!" he stared after the avian and the pony "I wonder what she's up to."

"Yeah! What business does she has here?!" Pinkie snapped. She didn't sounded like herself: she was irritated and suspicious. Walking up beside Steamie, she glowered after the avian, and from the look of her eyes, the poor engine knew he had broken her.

"Oh dear..." he muttered, as the mare stepped back inside his cab...

"Now, Miss, errr, Gilda..." the Time Lord/Yard manager spoke "You may not be aware of it, but you're in favorable positions here..."

"Really? That would be a first..." the griffon gal replied. Although she had only met him a few minutes before, she already began to like the Doctor. The pony's subtle, gentle demeanor a strive to keep his face as authority was quite amusing, and, unlike many ponies, he didn't seemed to hold any prejudice against her, for who she was.

Last time she was here, she surely managed to establish a bad rep. Now, either these ponies were very forgiving (which, in retrospect of the things she had done, didn't seemed very likely), or it was just this one pony, who wasn't there in either cases when she acted out.

Following him to the train yard, she couldn't help but to feel a certain animosity... Yeah, the freight cars and passenger wagons were alive, big deal, the same thing was happening all over Equestria, Eagleland, and whatnot. They eyed her up with deep suspicion... This "Doctor" bloke had told her to take no notice - they have never seen a griffon before, and they were very territorial and protectionist. Still, she couldn't help but to slightly lower her head as they walked between the long lines of rolling stock - after all, even the smallest truck was roughly ten to twelve times her size.

Trying to ignore them, she instead listened to the good Doctor.

"So, what job did you had in mind?" he now asked.

Oh, yes. Job.

You still gotta pay the taxes, even if you DON'T have anywhere to live. A sad fact about the Equestrian tax system - called the Regal Due. Boo-hoo.

Anyways, at the moment, any job looked promising.

"Well, this is a railway, right? The most obvious would be..."

None which needs much social interaction with ponies.

"...Being a driver."

"An engineer, you mean?" the Doctor asked.

"Yeah. That." the avian replied tiredly.

"And what engine did you considered?" the stallion asked back.

What?

"What do you have?"

"Steam and diesel, mainly. This part of the region will not be electrified in the foreseeable future."

"So, no electric engines?"

"Essentially, no."

"That leaves me with the other two. Steam, and, uuhhh..."

"Diesel."

"Right. Steam engines need a driver AND a firemare... Or firestud... Or whatever... Right?"

"Well, we have a tank engine who's driver and firemare is the same person, but..."

"So they do. I'll take a diesel then."

"The diesel." the stallion replied "We only have one without a permanent driver. He arrived earlier today, a hour or so before you did. Anyways, he's at the far end of the yard, being looked over. We'll have to be sure that the locomotives pass the national standard, to ensure that Quarantine Season doesn't arrive earlier."

The griffon looked puzzled.

"Quarantine... Season?"

The Doctor chuckled knowingly.

"If you're going to work here, get used to the extra seasons in your calendar."

"Great..." she muttered sarcastically.

"Anyway, where here!" the Doctor replied cheerfully.

"Where?"

"At your engine!" the stallion replied.

"I don't see any engines..." Gilda replied, quite puzzled. Then, she noticed something odd...

Among the coaches, on a distant, empty siding it stood. Only two single doors at each side, no windows, but railings, a giant BR symbol in white in the middle, with an odd number of wheels... Rail Blue, with yellow fronts and red buffer plates, and a dirty gray roof. It had the shape of a coach, then again, it clearly wasn't...

The griffon approached it sinuously. It had a lopsided wheel set, something which she noticed early on: two pairs on one side, three on the other. It sat there, quietly... As she went to the side, she noticed his face. it was on the lower half of his front, beneath three windows, arched at the top like his body, but not at the bottom. An oblong outline was in the middle of his face, between his narrow eyes, ending at his chin - like the frame of a door, with a metal plate professionally welded over it - his nose and the middle of his mouth was on it, though at that part, the rectangular outline was barely noticeable, thanks to his face.

Narrow eyes and long, stretched sickle-shaped eyebrows (now in a sullen frown), a sharp nose and a slit-thin mouth.

He noticed her, pitch dark eyes blinking - it seemed to be a common feature among the living machinery, what common, all of them where the same: irises and pupils seemingly fused, both completely black, eyes reflecting the light like glass balls. As the Doctor caught up to her, they both went closer to the machine. All the way, HE kept following their movement with his eyes, still locked in a morose frown. On a closer look, the... Locomotive, so it seemed, was a bit dusty, and his paint had been knocked off, here and there, with rust appearing in drop-sized spot, as if water had splashed up onto him - barely noticeable without a thorough overlook. Unusual features were the rectangle-shaped buffers, worn and chipped of their paint, the remaining - once black - now had a blueish tint, as if oil had splattered over it. His coupling was noticeably bulky, specifically made for extra-heavy loads. Upon closer inspection, the mechanical features were also visible: railings, bulks, a Nixie Tube headcode display at the bottom of the center front window, and, of course, the two classic, round, clear-glass headlamps, set above his eyes, with the mercury-vapor light bulbs visible inside them. Beneath his mouth, just above his buffer plate were two smaller, nub-like dark lamps, red tinted - the tail-lamps, she presumed.

"What do ya want?" he barked with a Liverpudlian accent, more gruff than angry.

"He's the only engine available now, all other locomotives under my watch are either taken, or have too busy schedules." the Doctor explained to the griffon.

"Oh, right, the training program" the diesel muttered.

"OK." the avian replied, after having a suspicious staring contest with the engine "What shall I do?"

"Here's your first workorder for the day. D5720 will fill you in about the controls and regulations." the stallion explained, hooving over a paper sheet. He then trotted back to the station building, leaving the griffon with the diesel.

There was a long silence.

Gilda and the engine stared at each other with mild bewilderment. Then, the engine sighed.

"Well, if we'll have to work together, it's best we know each other's names..." he grumbled "I'm CoBo."

"CoBo?" Gilda was puzzled.

"After my wheel arrangement." the diesel explained "Co stands for six wheels, Bo for four. What's your name, anyway?"

"Gilda." the griffon replied shortly.

Another long pause.

"Well... We got work to do." the engine groaned "Get inside. You'll learn the controls, and then, we'll get onto the jobs."

Instead of climbing into his cab, the avian just shot a cold, slantwise glance at him.

"And who put YOU in charge?" she grouched "I'M your driver."

"Oh?" CoBo asked back, raising his eyebrows "I thought you'd listen to common sense."

"Common sense?!" the griffon retorted "You just started to boss me around!"

"Because I'm your trainer!" the engine replied in a soothing, yet irritated matter-of-factually way "Of course, if you think you can learn how to drive a Metrovick diesel, then by all means...!"

"A what-now?"

"A Metropolitan Vickers' Diesel-Electric Type 2." he replied in a lecturing manner, with the slightest tone of pride in his voice "Classified number twenty-eight by British Rail. Me."

"Oh." Gilda replied, a bit baffled.

"You see?" CoBo continued, his voice reverting into it's original, morose tone. "You need experience. I'm here to provide that. But, we also got a job to do, so we oughta' get on the point."

Hesitating, Gilda took another glance at the engine. He wasn't old, but he had seen better days. Or, in fact, haven't. He just worked, no bother, no waiting. And, reluctantly, she had to admit that he was right. She had gotten herself into the situation she was by NOT thinking and not listening to advice, OR common sense - thinking is fine, all she needs is a bit of self-control, and not jumping straight to action, nor did she lacked common sense. But a good advice were hard to find these days.

And now, it was all offered to her on nearly a silver plate - all she had to do is listen, pay attention, a keep a good look out - she knew the value of these things, but rarely practiced them.

And there was he - an experienced, dutiful person, straight to the point, yet, not at one bit uptight, but rather... Ennui. Now where did that word even came from?

She was snapped out from her unusually twisty thoughts by an impatient CoBo.

"Ya lost in the doldrums or somethin'? Get a move on!" he growled.

Once inside his cab, she was welcomed by a pleasant feeling of authority, as she glanced out through the windscreens, nearly three meters above the ground.

She then noticed something.

"These aren't your windows, are they?"

"Ah, yeah." the diesel muttered "Long story short, I had an accident, and when I was repaired, they no longer had the parts for repairing my class, so, they used the windscreen frames of a Class 71".

"Oh."

"You've no idea about what I said."

"Nope."

CoBo sighed wearily. This is going to be a long day...

The controls were fairly easy to learn, and the smooth movement of the engine made the session even more easier - yet, there was a certain zest in the diesel's motion, whenever they started, as if there was a great power in his engine (claimed to be "two-stroke", or something), that he kept under control most of the time.

She payed no heed to his explanation about the regulations - they can only go back and forth on two pieces of metal, supported by wooden planks or pressured concrete slabs, and can tow or push a few unpowered boxes on metal wheels - not much of a chance to crash, other than running into another train. He's the engine, the one with the experience, and the one who's face is actually outside, giving him a better sight on the world - he can look out for both of them. And signals are fairly to understand, anyway.

After a bit of shunting, arranging their first train, they set out to do the job. Aside from the times he explained something, usually very nonchalantly, they didn't really spoke with each other.

Rumbling down the line (his engine growling fiercely), with a train of tankers in tow, she began to feel ill at ease. So far, no mistakes.

So far...

She had to get her mind off about it! And there was only one option...

"...Tell me more about this class of yours..." the griffons spoke up.

CoBo sighed.

"Well... My class is number 28, a short-lived class built by the Metropolitan-Vickers, a heavy industry electrical engineering company. The Class 28s were one of their designs, but were proven to be... Unsuccessful. Only two other members of my class have been preserved, one still in action. The rest have been withdrawn from service and scrapped."

"Scrapped?" Gilda asked, perplexed.

"Cut up into tiny little pieces of metal, which are melted down to make use of their material. Killed and butchered, basically. But, we are, but machines, so who cares?"

The avian was silent. She didn't liked the sound of this. The diesel went on, now sounding aggravated.

"In fact, we were deemed as the LEAST successful class in the history of British diesels, labelled feeble, loud, and with an "unacceptable level of exhaust fumes", even worse than the petty Class 17s, which were design failures to begin with!" he growled "The only reason I escaped is because some local workmen who played "Frankenstein" with me. But BOY, am I glad to be finally out of that fucking world!"

"You mean, the humans' world?" Gilda asked.

"Yes. And GOD, the mere thought is a relief!"

"Why?"

"'Cause I fucking hate the bastards!"

This caught her off guard. So far, the engine had been level-headed. Sour, but calm. She didn't expect him to harbor such feelings...

Hating the very people that built him... There was obviously more behind it than what he let of.

Although intrigued, she wasn't that interested about his world... As much as about he himself.

"...Besides, I'm the one who really does work around here, anyway. Those gits in the shed never moved an inch unless I smacked some sense in them. Glad to see them do work HERE, at least. But I guess now that I'M here, things will be back to normal." he grunted.

"Why bother working then?" the griffon asked.

"Because SOMEONE has to work, otherwise, we're all screwed. No work, no pay, no railway. And besides..." the diesel's voice broke "I'm... I'm not going to sink to... THEIR level..."

"...Why do you want to prove yourself?" Gilda asked.

There was a long silence.

Then...

"And why do YOU want to prove yourself?" CoBo barked back miserably.

The griffon was taken aback.

"...How did you...?"

"I know things about you, Gilda..." the Class 28 replied solemnly "We all do. So, why are you chickening out from talking to your own friend? Do you expect her to show up in such earth-bound place as the railway? So close, yet so far." he muttered, concluding "So tell me, griff. What do you want to prove? WHY do you want to prove, even? I know about your incident, and in my opinion, you could just... Brush it off, and return like nothing had ever hap--..."

He was cut off by a heavy pounding he felt on his control panel. It didn't hurt, of course, but it surprised him. So did her voice.

"Shut up, just SHUT UP!" Gilda screamed.

She stopped, and they didn't spoke for a long time.

But as the yard came in sight, he spoke up again...

"Do you know why I just started bossing you around back at the sidings?"

"No." the griffon replied grumpily.

"Well, ya sorta struck me as someone who doesn't like to dither about, and instantly become "Best Friends Forever", or some shit like that... Matter of fact, I thought you'd be like me - someone who doesn't take crap from anyone. Someone who'd be on the case. Someone who doesn't gives a fuck if things are mainstream or not, just does what she likes." the engine smirked.

"Someone who isn't a dweeb."

Gilda couldn't help but to smile as well, as they rumbled into the yard.

As the large diesel roared into the yard, the empty fuel tankers clattering behind it, he couldn't help but to feel watched.

The Chemical Combinat's yard was mostly empty, pass a few other, shiny tankers and a few refrigerator trucks. The complex was new, built a week after the "refurbishment" of the railway. Many things were stored and made here, ranging from food preservatives through latex, diluent, to Chemotox-based aerosols and tar paint. Many petrochemicals and petroleum derivatives were made here as well, including the heating oil they had to collect for a Trottingham's emergency back-up generator. The refinery, and most of the equipment were clean. Too clean, to be honest. Smokestacks were wider than usual, and appeared to be chromed, gently fumigating almost steam-like smoke. There was no weathering on anything, even the tracks themselves were shiny, and the ballast looked new.

The air was clean, sterile, even, not reeking from the smells expected at such a place, it didn't even had the medicine-disinfectant smell of a hospital. Then again, it wasn't Mountain-clear, either.

It was clean. But stiff, in the same time.

CoBo had his guard up. He didn't like the atmosphere of this place, as they looked around. Something was off.

"We'll go to the loading depot, fill these tankers up, and get out of here." he muttered "And, a bit of advice: DON'T get out of the cab."

"Wasn't planning to..." Gilda replied "But... Where are the workcolts? Where's everypony?"

That's it.

There was not a single, living soul around. The yard was devoid of life.

Feeling uneasy, Gilda released the brakes, and the train rolled forward. CoBo was slightly unnerved as well. He still felt like being watched.

"Great." he thought "I'm developing scoptophobia."

There was a row of large, vertical tankers on the other side of the sidings, each as tall as a building, connected to a larger industrial hall behind them, looming over a solitary siding that run between the tall, reinforced wall of the large block, and the containers, shady enough the hide the small tank engine and his pink driver.

Steamie shuffled between the shadows of the tankers, trying to get a peek on the diesel - along with the pony in his cab.

Pinkie Pie had undergone some changes while they arrived there - she kept muttering mundane, dark things about the griffon and what she might do to her friends (most of which ideas didn't went further than bullying and turning her friends into bullies as well). Pinkie's looks had also undergone significant changes: Rather than curly and poofy (or flat), her mane and tail were now zigzagged and disheveled, it's shade turning from magenta to a poignant Fuchsia, reflecting light with a sharp phlox purple, while her fur turned from humble pink to shocking pink. The color of her eyes also deepened in shade, a much sharper blue now. A constant frown and a rather cute half-pout lingered on her face. She had began bossing Steamie around, but the engine just couldn't say no to her - her downbeat had made her look even more adorable. Worrying, but adorable.

She was apparently leaning out from the tank engine's cab, VERY precariously, hanging from the throttle, ordering him about. Thankfully, he was used to not having a driver, so he could move about easily (HiT physics again). They moved forward again, when they heard the honk of CoBo's horn.

"They're leaving! Quick! We gotta hide!"

Instantly, the engine shot backwards, nearly making his "driver" fall out of the cab. They raced behind the row of the tankers, while the Metrovick diesel towed another away.

They never saw he trolley left stranded across the rails, with Steamie going backwards, and Pinkie holding onto her dear life, now busy reconsidering the order she gave with haste. They rammed, cab first, into the cart, making cans of old (but still quite liquid) paint fly up in the air. They were probably used for re-painting buffers, as there were only two colors: red and black. They all landed on top of Steamie, leaving him with impromptu red stripes, and black splodges. Pinkie herself had been flung away from the cab, landing on a pile of alum near by. Laying on her back, unhurt, but startled, she stared up into the sky with wide eyes.

"Oh, sugar-honey-iced-tea with pickles!" the engine grumbled, as he felt the paint trickle down his boiler.

With a sigh, and an annoyed look, Pinkie sat up, after being laid out on the alum heap.

"We gotta go after them!" she announced, all uncertainty disappearing from her eyes.

"Can't we wash this gooey muck off first?"

"There's no time! Our friends may be in danger! We'll have to deal with it later!"

"Eeeerm... Aren't ya overblowing this, Pinkie? I mean, she seemed harmless back at the station, and now, she's working! With CoBo, no less!"

"That's the point, and call me Diane!" the pony explained, jumping back into the cab 'Neither of them likes all the others, so they'll probably team up, and cook up something nasty for us, while they cover it with work! Gilda's a crafty sort, and that CoBo figure seems to know his garlic as well!"

'Do you mean "know his onions"?'

"Yes, know his garlic, onions and celeries! Let's go."

Still trying to figure out what Diane meant with the last sentence, Steamie obeyed, and chuffed away.

"So, how come you're so... Bitter all the time? Speaking of which, how come that all the trains are so embittered?"

The diesel sighed. It was a recurring question among the ponies: WHY were the machines of the other world so sullen all the time? Diesel even went as far to state the following, when his driver asked:

"Friendship MAY be Magic, Sparkle, but Cynicism is Default."

Rudimentary description, but that just about covered the truth. CoBo took a deep breath.

"Well, ya see, Gilda, our world is much different than this. First of all, we're not the prima esse of our world. The humans are. They have built us, and had been the peak of the food chain for thousands of years. They do not know magic, but have technology and religion to back it up. Through history, they all improved and became more powerful, developing their ways of ruleship, prosperity, industry, and most importantly, war. They battled each other indefinitely trough different times, battling ad nauseam for various reasons: landtaking, national pride, ethnic "cleansing", fights for freedom, revolutions, political uprises, any reason to draw weapons, rise up, spill blood, and cause havoc."

Gilda gulped.

"However..." the engine went on, as they were refilling from the Trottingham power station's pumps "Over the years, we engines saw how the societies of our world changed, reformed, disappeared and emerged. We've grown sick of it. ALL of it. The humans, "master race" among this world, are merely decaying idols. Repressing, faulty, imperfect, and feeble. There's no wisdom behind their knowledge. Over these long years we've lived, served, worked, and got withdrawn under their rule, in their world, essentially, and we realized there's no point in respecting them. Well, at least, I did. I deeply despise them, and everything related to them. This may sound like a paradox, as I am also made by them, and trust me, it is, but I care not. The past century saw the rise of the rails, among other, far more "important" things, such as two times five years of senseless slaughter and unspeakable terror, reared by nearly fifty years of paranoia, calculating demagogy and repression. Then came the rise of the road, and the slow, ever-lasting stagnation of train transport. As of today, or at least the time I left planet Earth, humans kept botching up everything within sight, including their own selves. I doubt this changed in ANY way since I left..."

The griffon said nothing, thinking of the world described to her. She barely noticed as CoBo continued, but caught up soon.

"As for me, well... I was the last one to be built of my class, an excess one, even. I never did saw any of my kind. I had several mechanical problems in the early days. I was to loud, smoked to much, and my strength was far from enough. Other engines, both steam and diesel alike, made fun of me, and those any bigger than me beat me up as well."

The avian frowned.

"Now don't try to tell me that a company that runs machines, even living ones, allow it's members to do this at work."

"It wasn't just work." the diesel replied softly "It was our life."

Gilda fell silent.

"As my working life seemed to be coming to an early end, both because of the collective withdrawal of my class, and my mechanical conditions, the workmen at the yard I was based at made a desperate attempt: after blueprinting my motor the best they could, they built a modified, unlicensed version, and replaced my old engine with it. To both of our biggest surprise, it worked well, better than any of my class, what's more, I grew stronger AND faster than any engine, any diesel of that decade."

His voice grew proud, before he stopped momentarily, cleared his throat, and went on:

"The sad fact is, when discovering my newfound power, I decided it was time for revenge. In less than a year, I paid back everything I had to suffer trough for a decade - thanks to my "upgrade", I survived the dusk of the class, labelled as "exceptionally successful". I presumably got more than a few engines closer to the cutter's torch by a few years. But I didn't stopped there. I began to bully smaller, weaker, and novice diesels, trying to find fun in terrorizing them - in the end, I figured out it was no use, I wasn't the bullying kind. My actions, however, toughened up the squirts, so engines like Bowler, Spamcan, and even Diesel himself, gained a worthy life experience from my actions. Not that I was proud of it, but I was glad that it actually benefited them - they learned from it: how to be cruel, how to be rough. Grim. How to be a complete jerk, an utter bastard. 'Cause the one thing I learned in my miserable life: the only way I, as a reject, could manage my way trough, is to become a jerk, but a helpful one. I stuck with the Other Railway for a long time, giving them the necessary aid through the years - SOMEONE had to work, and those lazy gits slacked of 23 hours a day! Together, we managed through the difficulties of service life, by becoming as twisted, dastardly, and brutal as necessary. To be an Other Railway engine is to be a complete bastard, worse than any, but simultaneously be able to work things out with the others for the common gain. We all hate each other here, apart from the siblings. And there's Derek and Steamie, buuuut... "

"So you guys all willingly dropped every sense of moral and ethics, in order to survive?" Gilda was bewildered.

"Yes." the diesel replied simply "Ya gotta fend off other jerks, an' it's better do it in a gang than on your own. Nothing brings people together more than a common hatred for something. That's why the Other Railway still exists. And because we always had a git to boss us around and keep us on edge."

The griffon was left perplexed. She saw the logic in all of this, and what's more, saw truth behind the cold words. But it just felt wrong.

It benefited them to become bastards to anyone who stood up against them. Yet, they hated each other.

She knew the world was cruel, but this just didn't felt right... Those who stick together are friends, right? Or at least, comrades... They're not supposed to despise one another... How could they stick together then?

It made no sense to her.

She jumped a little, as the diesel went on.

"It's different today, though. It's actually good to work and live here. The ponies are nice, even if a bit naive... A bit LOT naive... And they seem to have accepted us engines very well. They're not as prejudicial and paranoid as the humans were..."

Gilda only grumbled on that comment.

"I still don't know WHY you work so hard if none of the others do... Did."

CoBo smiled.

"When I said: "I wanted to be better than them.", I meant that I worked hard so I won't have time to socialize, thus, make up for the times I've been a jerk, AND avoid getting myself in dept more."

"I see..." she didn't, really, but she could make out the picture. Was she supposed to learn something here?

Mysteries.

Not far from them, on yet another shady siding stood Steamie, with Diane on the roof of his cab. The paint still haven't fully dried yet, and it made him feel uncomfortable. The distorted Pinkie on top of him wasn't feeling any better, either... She tried to figure out what would be Gilda's first step, while she chugged on a bottle of treacle. Nothing special, just treacle on it's own. All the while, she was keeping an eye on the diesel. She didn't trust him for one minute, despite how positive the tank engine was about him. He and Gilda seemed to be on a good term - which was bad. The engine was powerful. Stronger than Steamie. AND more popular, from what she understood of her friend's words. This could turn out to be very difficult.

"Ugh..." she groaned suddenly. Looking down, she saw that she had developed a bit of a potbelly. Giving it a gently poke, she could hear her stomach churn.

"I had too much of this thing..." she said, glancing at the bottle, dismayed by the sight: it was only half empty.

"Mrs. Cake always says that I should NEVER let anything go to waste..." she thought to herself sourly, petting her stomach as it gurgled. Her chance to do that, however, quickly vanished. One of the yard's shunting diesel biffed a truck of scrap wood. The truck rolled down the tracks, onto their siding, picking up speed. Steamie, being his dreamy self, only noticed it in the very last second. It bashed straight into him, sending him flying backwards down the line.

Now, the Trottingham power station was a modern, combine heat and electricity plant, which used wood, hay, and biomass for heating, However, the workponies had the tendency to leave things in the wrong place, such as a large pile of dried hay at the end of the sidings.

Steamie crashed into the pile, making hay fly everywhere. Pinkie flew off from the top of his cab, landing in the remaining hay. The treacle bottle slipped out from her hooves, bouncing on the top of the engine's cab, it's neck breaking off entirely, and splattering it's syrupy content all over the mare, before landing not far from her and shattering into pieces, the remaining treacle pouring out onto the tracks.

Diane lay dazed and surprised in a big pile of hay. Her fur was drenched and sticky with the molasses. Hay quickly stuck to it, as she wiggled about, and stood up. Her body was now completely covered in syrup and hay, making her look like some sort of hairy monster. Steamie wasn't any better: the hay had piled up on him, and quickly stuck to the still wet paint on him.

What's worse (and odd), it somehow became electrostatically charged, and now stood up. Both of them looked ridiculous.

The engine that had bashed the truck into them now towed said wagon away onto the other siding, and was busy apologizing with a strong Eastern-European accent, when he saw them. The next second, he burst out laughing, and called out to his colleges on his mother tongue. They also looked up, and laughed.

Bashful and completely embarrassed, Steamie chuffed out from the yard, an equally ashamed Diane quivering in his cab.
They were so busy trying to look invisible, they didn't noticed that Gilda and CoBo still haven't left, as they raced pass the fuel depot.

The two just stared after them.

"Did you saw a steam-powered green caterpillar on wheels race pass us?"

"No."

"Good. Me neither."

As they arrived onto the open line, they gradually slowed down.

"Diane" had slumped down onto the flooring, sniffing quietly. Steamie, on the other hand, was chuffing earnestly, an unusual, sedate look present on his face.

For a long time, they didn't talked. Then, the engine spoke up.

"Wha' happened back ther' was a really bad piece of management from yer part." he said sternly, his Londonian accent shining out "We shouldn' 'ave parked on th' utility sidings, especially no' when ther's shuntin' work bein' done. We shouldn' 'ave left th' yard to begin with. Now, we'r' probably late wi'h like TONS of workorde's, I look like a caterpillar, and ya look like self-aware tumbleweed! She may have been a bully once, but what do you think, why has she returned? 'ave some sort of murderous revenge on ya and everypony else? PUEH! She's far from bein' as pitiful as that! She prob'ly came back to apologize, and what do ya do? Snoop around, following and stalking her, AND a good friend of mine, making assumptions and jumping to conclusions like a complete putz. We're covered in hay, I got a distasteful new coat, and you smell like a candy factory's cesspool! All because you could't stay put on your plot! Well, Miss? What do you have to say for yourself?"

For a long time, Diane didn't reply.

Then, she spoke up softly, sounding very bereft.

"Let's go home."

The tank engine only sighed, and chuffed on.

As they arrived to the yard, they've met with some of the others almost instantly: Derek, as predictable, was at the work shed, being repaired, ONCE AGAIN. Fluttershy was beside him, the two chatting when Steamie rolled in. The effect was instant.

"Ohohoo!" Derek chuckled "Look what's crawled out of the hay! It's actually worth breaking down again, having seen you! Oh, dearie me, hahahaaa!"

Even Fluttershy had to squeeze a sniggle.

"You look like a Woolly Bear!" she smiled mirthfully.

'Arry and Bert, who happened to be working near by, heard and seen all, and began to sign to a familiar tune, being in that sort of mood (mainly because of the amount of raw methanol they had consumed):

Woolly... Woolly-woolly-woolly-bu~u~u~urr... He~e looks like a Woolly Burr! (Woolly Burr!)

The few engines who were back from their work were talking with CoBo, while Gilda waited beside the engine for their next work order. Diesel, being the head shunter, had been there all day, and was very glad to have someone else to talk to than the trucks, and his driver - and Twilight could say the same. Spamcan had also returned, after taking a heavy goods train to Phillydelphia. He and Applejack were now resting up for an evening one - another apple delivery to Canterlot. Old Stuck-Up was also there, getting ready for his evening express. They, too were delighted to meet an old drinking friend like CoBo.

"It's been such a long time, chap!" Stuck-Up spoke with a smile "Where have you been?"

"Ah, you know, here and there..." the Class 28 replied grumpily "IN the background."

"'bou' time we go' anothe' freigh' eng'ne 'ere!" Spamcan declared "'ho's yer drive', by th' way?"

CoBo, for once, didn't seemed reluctant or nonchalant, heck, he even seemed a bit less morose.

"Her name's Gilda, and..."

"Gilda?" Twilight looked surprised "You came back?"

"I AM standing in front of you, dweeb!" she grumbled, glancing around. Where the heck is that Doctor guy?

"So, yah've decided tah join th' railway?" Applejack asked, smiling "That's mighty generous of ya!"

"...How so?" Gilda asked, surprised by the kind words (or more likely from the fact that the cowmare used the term 'railway', as opposed to the generally Equestrian (and especially Appleloosian) 'railroad').

"Well, ya decided to do some real work, and at a workplace that bounds you to the ground, for the benefit of all..."

"And my wallet."

"...And your wallet, but so does the rest of us!" Rarity added quickly "We're delighted to see you've came back."

"Oh, I can imagine!" the griffon replied, rolling his eyes.

"By the way, have you apologized to Fluttershy yet?" Twilight asked "You did treated her very roughly last time."

"Roughly? She yelled 'er 'ead off!" Spamcan grumbled, but Applejack shushed him.

"Uuuuh... Yeah, I did." Gilda lied, but her engine wasn't about to let her.

"No ya don't!" he barked.

"Gee, thanks, man, really!" the griffon snapped back. Deciding to avoid that last bit of info, Rarity continued.

"All the same, we're very glad to see that you both found a good partner."

". . . Beg your pardon?" CoBo asked.

"I mean, as colleges! As driver and engine!" the white mare hastily added under the bewildered look of her friends.

"Yess, of course..." Stuck-Up added, after a long pause "CoBo, you needed a driver who would improve that misanthropic mood of yours, and there you have one, someone to relate to!"

"You too, Gilda!" Applejack added "Seems CoBo's just th' engine yah need to be able to enjoy yer work!"

The diesel and the griffon couldn't help but to slip a timid smile over those comments.

"Yes, and... Is that a giant, hairy caterpillar?" Rarity asked, her weird question and terrified look making everyone else look in the direction she was looking (apart from CoBo, who wasn't facing the phenomenon).

"Looks like it." Twilight replied "A Woolly Bear, perhaps? But THIS big?"

"Nah, it ain' it. Woolly Bears aren't green..."

"Nor do they smoke..." Diesel grumbled, squinting his eyes "Wait... Is that..."

"STEAMIE?!" they all gasped, before Spamcan burst out in a rude guffaw. The tank engine stopped beside the laughing diesel, and as Applejack looked back between them, she saw something that made her mouth curl up into a grin. Quickly, she hopped inside Spamcan's cab, and popped a CD from the engine's large collection into the pirate stereo system he had installed under his control panel.

As the applefarmer climbed out of the cab and trotted forward, a steady, army-like tune began to fill the air. It was the Imperial March.

"Presentin' you..." Applejack spoke in a serious manner, before stepping aside "PINKIE THE HAY LORD!"

And out from between the engines came Diane, still looking like a tumbleweed. The others didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Pinkie's head hung low, as she slowly trotted away from the still laughing D199 and her own engine, before bothering to take a glance at what's in front of her.

Her blood run cold.

She was a mere two meters from an equally shocked Gilda.

Instantly, she climbed into her face, every bit of hay and dried syrup falling onto the ground where she was standing roughly a second ago. She was glaring straight into the griffon's eyes, mouth twisted into a snarl.

"YOOOOUUUU..." she hissed. The others were taken aback. THIS was Pinkie Pie? Her mane was zig-zagged, her fur in various shades of purple, and her personality warped.

Gilda wasn't awestruck for a long time.

"BACK OFF, CREEP!" she yelled, and pushed the pony to the ground. Instantly, Diane was up again, heaving heavily, as she kept a glare on the now equally angry griffon.

"The HELL are you, and what's your problem?!" she snapped.

"What's MY problem?! what's YOUR problem, you... You... Stupid... Turkey... Cat... Thing...?!"

Seething with fury, the pony could barely make out her words.

"You came back, FINALLY deciding to show your ugly mug, for CELESTIA KNOWS WHY, and put me through a living nightmare! You and that motorized coach you call an engine made me and my friend look ridiculous, get laughed at by random trains, and now, you STEAL my friends from me! And you dare to ask what's wrong with--?!"

"What's with you, Pinkie?!"

They all looked up, hearing the new voice.

Rainbow Dash was lowering herself to the ground. Once landed, she shot an angry glance at the once pink pony.

"What the Ha... HECK is this all about?" Rainbow asked.

"I think I can answer that."

They all turned towards Steamie, surprised. The tank engine explained:

"We saw Gilda talking to Doctor Whooves this morning, and I suggested that Pinkie should stay away from her, given the fact they weren't on speaking terms, and Gilda seemed to be a rather brutish sort. From that, she concluded that Gilda came back because she's planning something against her, and possibly her friends. We spent the whole day following CoBo and Gilda around, and, NO thanks to them, ending up covered in paint, treacle, and hay. Pinkie is just being a paranoid pony. Or 'Diane', as she now refers to herself."

Diane could only gape at the tank engine. She felt betrayed.

"I see..." Rainbow muttered, before glaring at the once-bubbly mare "I'll be honest with you, "Diane". For a long time, I thought that what happened at that party was just a string of bad luck, and Gilda had been overreacting. But now, I see I got it all wrong. You had set those pranks up deliberately to make her act out, so that you can play the "innocent" role, and make her loose me as a friend!" she pointed an accusing hoof at her.

Diane could only squirm, pulling herself closer together, trying to look smaller, as Dash went on:

"But you failed. Gilda's still me friend! She was, WAY before you, and she will be, even AFTER you, Pinkie Pie! Cause friends don't set up each other like that! Thought you could pull off the same thing twice? Fat chance!" she stomped angrily. "You're no friend of mine, Pinkie Pie!"

The others gasped.

"Diane"-Pinkie slowly slumped to the ground, her fur reverting into a darker shade of pink, her mane and tail flattening out, as her first tears rolled down on her cheeks.

"Dash.... NOT. Cool!"

This made her look up. Gilda was beside her!

One wing was resting over her, as the avian glared at the gob smacked cyan pegasus.

"Aren't you supposed to be the Element of Loyalty?" she growled "You had betrayed me when I was in a tight spot, and chose your NEW friends over me. Now, when your NEW friend is in trouble, you ditch her for me. SEE why I called you a flip-flop? You betrayed both of us, you massive jerk!"

Rainbow was speechless.

"Some Element of Loyalty you are!" CoBo scoffed "You turn on your own friends when they need your help! Even I didn't do that to these bastards!" he went on, shooting a glance at the other engines.

"AND you don't sign up for work here!" Twilight added, now also annoyed "The Princesses themselves had asked us to do so, and we all ask you to show some loyalty, and help us out here, just for ONE day in a week, but you turn your wings at us!"

"SOME loyalty!" Stuck-Up grumbled.

"SOME friend!" Rarity added indignantly.

"AN' ruddy useless!" Spamcan put in.

Rainbow's eyes darted around. The situation had quickly slipped out of her hooves. She didn't found ONE friendly face in the crowd. In fact, the only face that wasn't hateful or angry was Pinkie's, who was looking both scared and confused.

Fighting her own tears, she burst out:

"FINE!"

And she flew off.

"Good riddance!" Stuck-Up grumbled.

"I double that." Diesel added "Stupid cunt."

"Trus' a livin' Skittles commercial t' be yer friend!" Spamcan muttered.

Steamie and CoBo exchanged looks. They didn't expect this, and they didn't wanted it to happen, either.

Gilda just stared after the pegasus, still looking annoyed, while Pinkie slowly recovered.

"Now... How 'bout you two write a letter to Princess Celestia?" Twilight asked.

"A letter? To the princess?" Gilda WAS confused.

"Friendship report." Pinkie explained, her hair poofing up slightly, as the familiar and comforting topic was brought up.

Dear Princess Celestia!

Today, I learned - sadly, through the hard way - that you should never jump to conclusions, and be paranoid about something you can't be sure of. I got myself in trouble because of it. However, it's all better now, and I've even managed to make a new friend. I also learned that I shouldn't exaggerate things I make up for myself, because I can easily get caught up in.

With love,

Your favorite party pony,

Pinkie Pie.

Dear Princess Celestia!

Today, I learned something I have been turning away from for a long time: You have to value your friends. Because true friends are rare. It took me too long to realize this, but finally, I know.

Also, you shouldn't be afraid of making new friends - because you never know, when will they come to your aid, but if they're there when you need them, it already worth the effort.

Signed,

Gilda.

The Princess smiled at the letters she received earlier that evening. She was about to get to bed, when she decided she'd read them before sleep. There was a third one as well, but this was more of a folded paper sheet rather than a letter.

It was sort, too:

Dear Princess Celestia.

I lost my friends. I lost my loyalty. I lost my value. I don't know what to do now.

Rainbow Dash

She put the sheet down with a saddened look. Luna had been reading it above her shoulder.

"What do you think?" she asked, turning to her.

"I don't know... But I felt her element weakening half an hour before. Shall we help her?"

Celestia sighed.

"No, Luna. It's something she'll have to deal with by herself..."

Episode 6 - The Diesel, The Zebra, and The Spluttershy

THE DIESEL, THE ZEBRA, AND THE SPLUTTERSHY

She knew the path very well... Just a quick turn to through the forest, across the lines, through the field, and there she was. Or, at least, supposed to be.

She had done this so many times by now, she knew the back like the back of her hooves. Wait... Did her hooves even have a back?

Through the forest she went, the heavy foliage of the old trees shading the light, looming over her head like a canopy. Her sight has been reduced - dark shadows covered the path. Her assistant was getting impatient...

"Don't worry, well get there soon..." she whispered "I hope..."

Trees, with long, gnarly branches hoovering over her head, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze... She felt herself more and more lost, as she trotted down the dark path.

The forest, usually more like a jungle, was now indeed the very description of a temperate zone, deciduous, scary, dark forest. She couldn't recognize the species, but they looked sinister... As she trotted deeper into the woods, she could feel a sense of dread rising within herself. The world seemed to be loosing colors, as she ventured, a mist rose to her feet, getting more and more dense, while the tall grass seemed to flatten, die, the ground becoming barren, aside from the trees, now tall and pillar-like, with long, claw-like branches, arching down towards her... The air grew cold and moist, and the light was nearly gone. The streaks of the sun shining trough the leafage turned into an ominous, monochrome color.

RED.

She would've sworn she heard whispers behind herself. Slowing down, she listened carefully.

She couldn't make out the language, but the voices increased in number, the casual whispering turning into a quiet cacophonia. Her heart started to beat faster, her breaths grew hastier, as she increased her speed, trotting faster and faster. Through the whispers and the breeze flying pass her ears, she could hear a thunderous crackle from behind. Looking back, only for a brief moment, she saw a tall tree collapse onto the ground, it's trunk snapped into half. Gray light covered that area, where the tree fell down. And, grasping it with it's long, clawed hand was...

She gasped as the dark eyes rested upon her. Turning her head forward, she ran, faster than the wind, her assistant holding onto his dear life. Thorn bushes filled a trench in front of her. She jumped, spreading her wings... Flying faster and faster, she rose into the foliage, darting left and right between the now sword-like branches... Breaking through the top, she felt the tiniest branches brush under her fur, scarring her skin, and breaking off.

But she was out now, under the full-spectrum of Celestia's sweet sun, soaking up it's heat, her mane flowing freely. She had almost forgotten how great it is to fly.

Took one glance down.

MILES away from the ground...

"MEEP!"

She slowed down, her muscles tense, lowering closer and closer to ground level - an instinctive reaction. To her misfortune, she was lowering back into the forest as well... But in the distance, she could see it come to an end, the rising sun reflected from the long-stretching pieces of metal. So she sped up, fighting her own reflex to dive back to the ground, her body shaking, as instinct and sheer willpower fought. She could still feel her assistant, hugging her, holding his body close. He did not dare to part with her.

With one loud, wheezing gasp, she landed, unable to fight her instinct anymore. Landing slightly roughly on the lush, soft green grass, she laid down, legs and wings spread, her chest heaving heavily, her eyes close to rolling back, as her consciousness was ready to flee. A gentle shake from her friend woke her up. Looking up, she saw concern in his eyes.

"I'm... *huff* ...OK..." she muttered, smiling. Slowly, she got back up, standing on shaking legs.

"We'll... Leg it... OK?"

Her assistant nodded furiously.

"Good morning, Fluttershy!" he greeted him. A cheery smile, a kind voice, triangle-ish eyebrows, big nose...

"Good morning, Derek!" she replied. Derek was a kind sort. Soft-spoken, gentlecolty, "gentleMANly", as he put it, very noble, and endlessly polite. To bad he couldn't enjoy a good health with it. Being a Class 17, Derek's engine was a disaster area, especially his cooling system, which failed him the most. He had broken down more times than any other machinery in British Railway History. His mechanical condition - along with himself - has been neglected by his previous owner - the notorious and loathed Sir Wyatt Fronts, the 'Thin Git'.

However, in his new workplace, he was well-kept and looked after. Sadly, this didn't helped his persistent "teething troubles", no matter how hard Spike worked, he always remained a weedy engine, spluttering smoke and going up in flames (sometimes literally) every three to five hours - every eight hour on cold days (he absolutely LOVES winter). Never-the-less, he remained a diligent, optimistic engine, ready to work whenever he was needed. Thus, he was sort of an outcast among the slacker, hardcore, heavy-weight diesels of the Other Railway, but his meek nature and gentleness may have been the very reason the others haven't grown even more sour over the years. And the fact that he has the biggest alcohol tolerance among them also makes him a respected member among the clan. A gullible prat, he was often the butt of the other's jokes and the scapegoat when weaseling out of their jobs. Not here, thought.

He was the only one who actually WANTED to go to Equestria - the others merely followed him as ordered by the Thin Git to get him back (a hastily made idea, probably, as they all got stuck, and decided to pose as refugees, only to be followed by ACTUALLY fleeing engines from all around planet Earth).

Already, Angel bunny was looking into his engine. He had no idea were the little rabbit got it's profession, but he was excellent at fixing him up quickly. He sometimes even made dangerous stunts: due to his size, he could get inside his double engine blocks, and he even did this when his engines were still running, or what's more, he was still moving. By the weird oddities of fate, Fluttershy was yet to notice her "pet's" death-defying mechanical skills - and thank heavens for that. Luckily for all three of them, Alexei, the foreign deity and controller of the railway, Equestrian Rail, AND the Princesses were looking into this problem, as the god had recently "acquired" the blueprints of Derek's class, and were looking over it to find a solution.

After that check-up, and receiving their work order, they rolled off, again, towards the forest.

Everfree Forest was one of the most well-known and notorious green lands of Equestrian, spreading over provinces, it's thick foliage covering the land for miles, like a mountain range, only broken by ravines and clearings and deforestation paths that ponies made in ancient times. Some areas were habitable, some were even inhabited, but most was left alone, giving home to many mythical, supernatural creatures. Certain areas were even worse: shrouded by something the civilized beings only know as the Corruption, parts of the great forest had turned into a nightmare land. Lethal beings roamed these parts, but thankfully, the Corruption wasn't going anywhere. It was a the environmentalists' recurring question: HOW did it even appeared? No magic could explain it, nor could any weather movement. It was a mystery. Naturally, Fluttershy would have reported the appearance of the Corruption in their part of the forest, but it had been there since she first ventured in there, before the Corruption in general was discovered. She felt it wouldn't help at all - they couldn't sterilize any other corrupted parts, either.

And also, there was... The Thrill.

Now Fluttershy wasn't a mare of huge demands. She had everything she needed: Her friends, her animal friends, her cottage, the ground, and more importantly, the "friendlier" part of the Everfree Forest, close to hoof, and now, she also had her locomotive friend. She also had "The Stare", which she could use to tame animals.

But... The Thrill was different.

The Thrill... Was unique.

A shy and often fearful pony by nature, no-one expected Fluttershy to be adventurous. However, this was beyond adventuring.

Fluttershy had an addiction.

A natural addiction.

Every time she braved that very same path through the corrupted forest, she was in full knowledge of the danger she had put herself out to. Beasts and monsters inhabited the Everfree Forest. Ends and Terrors dwelled in the Hollow Holt.

She wasn't sure when the Holt had appeared, but it had been there for a long time - it was there before her. Every time she went through it, it stored a new horror for her. It felt like as if it was waiting for her. Creeping up to her.

The ponies despised the Corruption. They HATED it. It was one of the few things that evoke such vile and strong negative emotion from them. The griffons hated it as well - their story went back a long time, when they were still in clans rather than a full civilization. Zebras hated it as well - the amount of dark magic it emitted was strong enough to defile an entire sightful of landscape within a day. Thankfully, it wasn't spreading. It also turned the natural habitats of the land feeble: blinded, albino, leukemics, DEAD.

Yet, she couldn't help herself.

The threat she felt, every time she saw the shadows increasing. Like a surge of electricity, it slipped down her spine.

The Thrill.

The rising sense of dread, a potential of instant shock, panic lingering within her body, her mind in disarray. Her general fears gone in favor of a much larger one. It made her muscles tense, increasing her strength. Blood pumped wildly within her, and her senses were madly increased, as if she had taken an overdose. Which she did. All the time.

For Fluttershy was addicted. Not to ground salt. Not to Witch Weed.

She was addicted to adrenalin.

A neurotic malfunction it was, perhaps, but her FFF (Fright/Freeze, Fight or Flight reactionary system) was overwhelmed by the amount of adrenalin that flowed through her, every time she was in danger. But only the Thrill could provide a boost big enough to dull her conscious senses, and make her fully return to her instincts.

She hated going trough the path.

Yet, she wouldn't help it.

She couldn't help it.

What's worse, she wasn't even conscious of it.

They arrived to the forest cutting quite early, most of the machines weren't even on yet, heck, even the workponies weren't present. But there was one thing that was awake, one thing that was already on the move: Brush.

"Good morning, chaps!" he called out to them. The Class 47 was busy arranging some trucks "Glad you could come!"

"So are we!" Derek replied cheerfully "What's the plan?"

Brush eyed them up. And spotted the pony.

"You're Fluttershy, right?" he asked "Well, you may not like this, but there's a deforestation going on."

The mare flinched.

"It's nothing large-scale, though..." the diesel quickly explained "We're making a double-line industrial through here, where the woodland is the thinnest. It'll be going to Gaslight City. It's biggest power plant and gasworks are just beyond the forest. And don't worry, afforestation had simultaneously begun elsewhere." he finished with a smile.

Fluttershy forced on a smile.

"G-Good to hear."

"Ooookaay, I guess?" Brush wasn't convinced "Anyways, we got some time before the shift starts, so, ya might as well make yourself comfortable."

The two diesels quickly started to chat about work and their new life in Equestria. Fluttershy, finding the conversation rather personal, stayed silent, idly watching Angel nibble on a particularly large carrot he somehow brought along, as she thought: Gaslight City. A place fabled for it's uniquity in style, design, and, of course, lighting. Mares like her could never even dream of visiting such a place - despite all it's beauty, Gaslight City was an industrial metropolis - "Authorized Personnel Only". The city could just as easily been built as a massive, ugly energy complex, rather than the architectural dreamland it was today. Hadn't it been for Celestia, the place would be an eyesore, rather than a sight for sore eyes. With all it's technical wonders and beauty, it was the perfect gift for the science-loving Luna. But, as a city that uses coal as it's main power source (the main material used by it's gasworks, producing coke as a commercial product, and town gas for the citizens themselves), it sure had a great demand. Serving it has been a great backsore for years. But the expansion and modernization of the railway system gave space for new solutions.

Such as this industrial branch.

Part of the branch was already finished - they were on it, and now, they were continuing it's constructions. It had to be extended further, across the the stripe of forest, straight to the outskirts of the city, where the plant was.

She tried not to think of the deforestation process that will take place, but her mind kept returning to it - and then shifted onwards, towards the memories of that less friendlier part of the woods.

She was woken by the hooter which marked the start of the shift. Many workponies have already arrived, and so did the forecolt. Standing in a circle, they waited for the orders to he handled out, and soon joined by Fluttershy as well.

"Alrigh', lads!" the forecolt spoke up.

Or snapped, more likely. He had a nasalous, harsh voice, and didn't sounded very kind.

"We got some urgent business to take care of here! We'll have to lay down AT LEAST one mile of track by the end of the day! However, since the wood stripe is twenty miles thick, and we still have sixteen miles ahead of us, we ought to speed this up. The geographic bureau had marked our path: apparently, this part of the woods ahead of us had been attacked by a strange fungus that made the trees rot from the inside, dry out, and collapse, also poisoning the soil. We're going to mow down this stripe, lay the ballast and the tracks." he declared sharply.

"However..."

The slightly dulled workponies now looked up.

"However... There are certain danger points that you all best keep in mind. First of all, if you notice any swarm of insects, ESPECIALLY parasprites and wasps, report it immediately. We can't be delayed by a cursed bug invasion. Second, there are two or three parts of the forest we have to avoid, so, whatever you do, DON'T change our general direction! There are three landmarks that we have to watch out for."

A giant map was levitated up for all the workponies to see, displaying the path of the cutting, and three points along the way, one of which was now highlighted.

"One of them is a ravine. We don't have that sort of money to build a bridge over it, so, we'll have to go around it's edge. Thankfully, our path passes right beside it, so it shouldn't be much of a problem."

Another point was highlighted. This was further away from the path, and also had a trail joining to it.

A trail, that led back to Ponyville.

"The next "obstacle" is actually far from our path. It is the hut of a zebra remedist called Zecora. You might know her."

Most of the workponies nodded in agreement.

"Well, the thing is, since the lines will be less than one and a half mile from it, will have to give her a notice about the rails, you know, legislative stuff, and whatnot. The third one is a bit obscure for me."

The last, third point was highlighted. This was, by far, the closest to the line, and a small warning sign appeared next to it: A white triangle with a red edge, inside of it a twisty trifurcate symbol pointing upwards - the universal symbol of "Mental Hazard". It wasn't very far from Zecora's hut. Fluttershy's eyes went wide.

"Apparently, there's a ruined village VERY close to our route. I don't know if you guys heard about it, but Celestia herself had warned us about it. We MUST avoid that one village at all cost, and make the line as far away from it as possible. Now, we don't have the money to arch very far from it, so the distance we'll put between IT and the rails is million times the distance between the market path and the point displayed on this map."

Whispers filled the crowd. The workponies were anxious. One of them asked out aloud:

"Boss... Wha's up wi' tha' village?"

The forecolt looked over his ponies. He gave a sigh...

"...Does any of you know of... The 'Story of the Blanks'?"

Derek's engine run cold. An unfamiliar, icy feeling filled his engine blocks. Brush was dumbfounded.

He knew of the horror stories revolving around the ponies, but wasn't very good with details.

Fluttershy froze altogether. She couldn't see. She couldn't feel. She couldn't think. Just listen.

The crowd fell silent. They looked at each other in bewilderment.

"According to the Royal Archives..." the forecolt went on "In her weakest years, a the first few decades after the unfortunate... Events with Princess Luna... Or Nightmare Moon..."

The ponies cringed...

"So, in those years, Princess Celestia was still beyond herself. "Grief that they had never seen greater", they wrote. In this less than sober frame of mind, she approved of a program devised by one of her ministers back then. This was before the elections and the multi-party system was established, WAY before it."

It began to dawn to them, what their boss was talking about. He continued, nevertheless...

"The program I'm talking about..." he said slowly "Is something that you may know of as... "The Village Destruction Plan"."

The ponies hissed. Derek and Brush exchanged dismayed glances.

They all knew of the plan, the dark splodge on Princess Celestia's solitary ruleship.

"The Cost of Progress is that of the cost of a few houses." said the motto.

Today, it was know as:

"The Cost of Progress was the cost of homes, culture, and lives."

For the sake of industrialization and urbanization, rural areas were obliterated, and many villages ceased to exist, destroying cultural hotspots, and erasing long years of history. Nearly a thousand years it may have been, but the ponies still remembered it. It was one of Princess Celestia's biggest regrets. She saw the blame and incomprehension in SO many ponies' eyes. That included the eyes of Discord, Queen Chrysalis, Princess Cadence, and most importantly, her own sister, Princess Luna. No one understood, what went through her head when she made her decision. Neither did she.

The first victim of the senseless and needless destruction was an isolated village in the Everfree Forest, simply known as The Great Forest back then.

"It is said that this one place, called Sunnytown, was the first victim of the plan that was yet to be announced when the village was deserted." the forecolt spoke "But, there's a... Rumor going about that the reason that place is a ghost town by now, is not as secular as the political records should suggest. They say there's something supernatural is behind the desertion of that place, and the reason it was emptied is not within the greater scheme of politics."

The forecolt's eyes wandered of, his gaze resting in the air.

"That place may even be the source of the thing we know as... The Corruption..."

The ponies gasped. Fluttershy twitched, and sunk to her flank, her face going pale. Her pupils dilated, her irises spread. Her breath stretched, as if she was constantly sighing, trying to avoid hyperventilation.

"Which brings us to the last point." their chief went on "If any of you see sights that would suggest the Corruption is present - and we all know what those are -, the immediately report it to me. OK, I think that's all. Alright, ponies, let's get this line laid."

And on that cue, Fluttershy snapped out of her trance. With shaking legs, she walked back to her engine. They exchanged a glance - and that was all that was needed. They went on their work, pulling and pushing trucks. The cranes loaded them, and then, they arranged it into a train, which Brush took away to the sawmill. The cranes themselves were inanimate, completely relying on the ponies to control them.

There was, however, one machine that was just as alive as the engines and the trucks.

It was large, weather-worn, turquoise deforestation machine with caterpillar wheels, and two great circular saws in the front. It rumbled loudly, as it mowed down trees and shrubbery. It had square-shaped gray face at the lower front of his cab, cleverly positioned so that both he and his driver could see what's in front of them. He also had a tall exhaust pipe extending from him, which blew thick plumes of white smoke - he wasn't completely warmed up yet, and some dew had gotten into his exhaust, which now rapidly turned into steam.

He slowly moved forward with a content look, clearing up the forest, while a large plow on his lower part also removed the trunks. When they arrived to a bigger tree, he had to reverse, so that the lumberjacks could take care of it personally. He couldn't risk rendering himself out of order.

As Fluttershy stopped Derek for a refill at the mobile tanker, she couldn't help but to stare at the large machine. He was robust and looked dangerous, yet, his movements were soft and gentle.

Brush stopped beside the two, and by then, both of them were gazing at monstrum chopping down the forest stripe.

"They call him Cutlass." he explained "He's a lonesome fellow, but trust me, his heart is not as sharp as his blades. He's very gentle, to be honest. But he rather keeps himself to himself."

"Uhuh..." the mare replied, her eyes still on the machine.

They made good progress, and soon, they passed the ravine - didn't actually saw it, but the map showed it to be close. No one dared to wander off, so they moved fast... When they came in level with Zecora's hut, the forecolt trotted straight to Fluttershy.

"Listen, gal..." he spoke to her, gentler than he usually does "I know you're a friend of Zecora, so, could you please take this paper to her?" he hoofed over a form "We need her to fill this out in order to continue. If she doesn't agrees, we'll have to turn to the right authorities, the sooner, the better. You're a pegasus, so you can fly over this canopy." he went on "You know, if it's not a big thing to ask..."

"Oh, no, it isn't..." Fluttershy replied, lowering her head slightly "But, umm... You see..."

She leaned closer, and whispered to him:

"I'm afraid of flying..."

The stallion was taken aback... But, scratching his stubble, his voice turned serious.

"C'mon, gal, show some guts! Just fly above the foliage level, and keep looking forward, until you can see his hut in the distance. I heard there's a large clearing around it, keep looking for that. Now GO, we don't have time."

The mare only meeped, as the stallion pushed her forward, much to Derek's and Brush's protest.

"Hey! Leave her alone! She didn't sign up for this!"

"That's no way to treat a lady! HEY! LEAVE HIM ALONE, YOU TWAT!"

The dark brown pony paid no attention to them, he just pushed her near the edge of the forest.

"Look..." he muttered impatiently "You came here to help, so help! Just fly over to her, there's a good gal!" and with that, he turned away. Already, the workponies were assaulting him for his behavior, but he didn't care. He wanted to get the job done and over with.

Shaking slightly, Fluttershy looked at the dense woods ahead of her. With a deep sight, she took off.

The the black maned stallion's advice seemed to work. She flied above the heavy leafage of the forest, and soon saw the clearing. Landing easily on the dusty ground she trotted towards the door of the hut, and once there, knocked.

"Ah, the kind one, Fluttershy, you came to visit, or just passing by?" she was greeted by the herbalist's rhyming words. She smiled, and wasted no time.

"Good day, Zecora, I, ummm... I came for a reason..." she spoke. The zebra was all ears.

"What that reason may be, that brought you directly to me?"

"Well, umm... It's..." She didn't know how to explain, so she simply hooved the paper to her.

"Hmmm? What's this?" she asked, and skimmed through it. Lowering it, she looked quite surprised.

"Noise pollution from lines of the railway?" she asked, before chuckling "Hard to believe, it's so far away!"

"But were closer to you than one and a half mile!" Fluttershy explained frantically "The lines will pass by over there, and it could be very noisy, and..."

Zecora placed her hoof on her mouth, silencing the pony. She had a gentle smile.

"Fluttershy, dear friend, the forest is dense, it's foliage will come to my ears' defense." she smiled, and, dipping a feather into a tar-like liquid, she wrote her name on the marked line. She then turned to the pegasus:

"After all, do you think, that if I had already heard the machines, I wouldn't say a thing? But now that you mentioned this great ordeal, I'd like to see those machines have a forest meal..."

The yellow mare blinked.

"Huh?"

"I've never in my life seen mechanical saws, are they like creatures that put trees in their maws?"

"Oh? NO-nonononooo!" Fluttershy was slowly catching on "There's just one machine, Cutlass, and the workponies use chainsaws and axes. Then me, Derek and Brush take it away."

Now Zecora was trying to catch up.

"Slow down, dear friend, it's hard to understand! So the ponies work in a band?"

"Y-Yes. There are twenty or twenty-five stallions and mares, and one deforestation machine, plus, a few cranes to load the logs onto the trucks."

"So, the rails are already being built with such haste? Hope their efforts won't go to waste!"

"Oh, no, you see, they clear a part of the forest, then lay the ballast, then the sleeper, and THEN, the rails. They can already be used, so we bring trucks, and the cranes load them with logs. We then take them to the sawmill..."

"We? Who is the company? I must see!"

"See?" Fluttershy looked up "You mean... You wanna come to the site?"

"Yes indeed!" Zecora replied with a smile "The whole operation sounds like a chore, but with all this equipment, couldn't there be more?"

"W-What? N-No, they're just cutting a clearing for the railway lines..." the mare muttered "There's going to be an industrial line from Ponyville to Gaslight City, and it has to got through the forest. They simply marked what would be the quickest way, and, now... They're clearing the "obstacles" away... That's all..." she muttered, glancing back at the zebra "But, if you want to come..."

"I certainly wish..." Zecora smiled "My knowledge of the forest may even come handy, plus..." a sultry smile appeared on her face "So many working horses can be quite an eye-candy."

Fluttershy blushed madly upon hearing this...

"O-Oh... My..." she uttered. She didn't even thought of the whole thing from this direction.

"Shall we go then? Please, show the way!" the herbalist continued, walking up to the edge of the clearing "I wish to see them!"

She turned away from Fluttershy, before uttering with the same sly smile, now accompanied with a blush...

"And, perhaps, have a roll in the hay..."

They arrived quite quickly. Zecora was eager to see how the deforestation process went by, and Fluttershy needed to get back to work, anyway...

When they reappeared, the workponies first greeted them, but when they saw Zecora, they fell silent. The zebra didn't seemed to mind, though, she was busy examining the equipment. Hard to believe, but she had never even seen a chainsaw before. Back in her homeland, the lumberjacks were ill-equipped, due to financial reasons, and cuttings weren't made in such large scales, anyway. Well, that was what it was like when she was still a filly. She then began to ask the workponies on break about the equipment. They were a bit awkward at first, but soon, they caught the enthusiasm of the zebra, and began to show her the equipment. But some where surprised.

"Excuse me..." a mare asked "But are you really okay with this? I mean, we're trimming the forest. Your forest!"

The zebra smiled.

"That may be, but I'm not an angry mob, and besides, it is just another job!" she smiled "The forest isn't mine at all, anyway, and I don't mind a bit of... Trimming, if it's for the railway..."

She fully understood why they needed to clear the way, and agreed with it, too...

When she was young, she was often dismayed how the workponies, often aided by her tribe, chopped down the trees to make way for the rails... But when the rails were actually finished, and the trains brought water, medicine, and farming equipment, she finally understood why the trees needed to go. And, even back then, they planted trees elsewhere, to make up for the loss.

But, back then, the trains were pulled by smoke-spewing steam engines, that clanked loudly, and moved about with a huff...
She was surprised to see the two diesel engines, not to mention living ones.

"Pleasant to meet you, miss Zecora!" Derek greeted her with his usual lisp "My name is Derek, and this is my good friend, Brush."

The Class 47, with a mustache made out of his own empty headcode-panel, greeted the Zebra kindly.

"Charmed to meet you, miss Zecora!" he spoke "Glad you came to see our work. I'm 47666, but my friends just call me "Brush"."

The herbalist herself was charmed by the engine.

"I'm glad myself that I've came to see, these machines and methods are new to me..." she said, taking an intimidated glance at Cutlass, as he cleared yet another yard "But you engines are beyond my imagination, could you tell how you diesels came to creation?"

Brush smiled widely.

"It all started 154 years ago, with the birth of a man named Rudolf Diesel..."

While the engine explained the origin of his kind, and the development of the heavy-duty engine that WAS his origin, Fluttershy found herself verbally assaulted by the forecolt.

"WHY did you brought... Her here?" he asked furiously "This is an authorized area, and she's holding up work!"

"I didn't meant to..." Fluttershy explained "She just wished to come along. She means no harm, and she isn't holding up work, I swear!"

"Still..." the forecolt hissed "I don't need any... Zebras disturbing my work... OR mares..." he added, glaring at the pegasus.

There was a spark, and something flared in Fluttershy's eyes.

"Now HOLD ON JUST A MINUTE!" she snapped, quite loudly, catching the stallion by surprise, and also catching the attention of the many workponies around them.

"How DARE YOU...!" she hissed "How DARE YOU...!" she seemed so angry, she couldn't even find the words...

Slowly, she calmed down a bit, heaving heavily, but her eyes still seethed with fury. But instead of yelling, she merely declared what she had to say, and quite coldly.

"This operation is run, and funded, by Equestrian Rail and it's associates. Both the cranes, and Cutlass carry the company's emblem, which means they belong to US." she uttered. This was true, Equestrian Rail had recently developed a symbol for marking it's property, a slightly changed version of the original British Rail double arrows symbol.

"You, and your workponies ALSO seem to be carrying said symbol." she went on, her voice gaining a malicious tone "Which means, you're all under the jurisdiction of the railway, which is owned and directed by the princesses themselves, and controlled by their regal advisor. All of whom I know, and can proudly name as one of my closest friends. You are merely an employee, hired to lead the deforestation along the marked lines. But you have no word in what the RAILWAY does. You're no boss of me."

A guileful smirk crept onto the mares face, disturbing the already dismayed stallion.

"You can't order me to throw my guest out of an area authorized by the railway. My mere presence allows her to be here. And anyways, "authorized area"? Tch. We're in the middle of a bucking forest. EVERFREE Forest. Someone who actually LIVES in it may easily be our greatest aid... After all, we still have Sunnytown to face." she added.

And with that, she turned around, slapping the stallion with the end of her tail, also snapping from the pandemonium he had to suffer through when encountering The Stare. He was heaving heavily, and closed his eyes with tire, when he heard Fluttershy talk once more.

"And, as for your racial prejudices... You best consult with my friend Zecora..."

And with that, she trotted off, leaving a dumbfounded forecolt among many, now malevolent looking colleges. But they all returned to work, without saying a word. The dark brown stallion just sat down, taking off his white safety helmet, letting his black mane fall free. He looked at the now ignorantly working ponies, and felt completely out of place. Rejected. Outcast.

He heard hoofs grind on the freshly laid ballast behind him. Slowly, he looked up.

Zecora had came to him.

At first, he was worried about what the zebra may say, but the sincere look in her eyes dismissed all paranoia. Well, almost.

"My dear stallion, what is the matter? The ponies are either cross or dismal, you seem the latter..."

The stallion sighed...

"Well... You see... I have this... Problem..." he spoke with honesty, though found it hard to put his thoughts into words.

"And what shall that be? I'm sure we can find a remedy." the zebra was optimistic. She had either not heard Fluttershy's last sentences, or chose to ignored them.

"Nno, it's nothing biology-related..." The stallion admitted, looking away bashfully. Zecora took a moment to eye him up. He was bigger than the others, roughly as big as Big Macintosh, with a dark brown fur, black mane and tail, and a circular-saw blade cutting a line as his cutie mark. His attire consisted of the now removed white helmet and a light-reflecting neon blue vest, both of which indeed carried the Equestrian Rail symbol.

She then glanced at Cutlass, the large, but gentle deforestation machine, the introvert sort whom the workponies praised to no end, then looked back at the stallion, looking ashamed like a colt caught shouting profanities.

It didn't took her long to see a connection.

"Then tell me what ails you, dear stallion. You look like a sail-less galleon..."

"Well... It's just that..." he found it harder and harder to explain "I had never spoken with a zebra before... And..."

He felt a hoof on his mouth. Looking up, he stared straight into Zecora's turquoise eyes. She had a sympathetic look on her eyes.

"Say no more, my dear friend. Your bother shall come to an end. I've met many ponies that prejudice tamed, but you're the first who actually feels ashamed. You said you never talked with one from the zebra tribe, perhaps I can help you to improve your vibe."

He looked at her with awe. She offered her help, and what's more, her friendship to him. This can't all be for granted.

"I... Thank you, Zecora." he finally smiled. His workponies, three certain machines, and a certain pegasus acknowledged this with a content smile as well.

The work went on, and soon, they were approaching the critical point - the area marked to be under Sunnytown's influence. The distance between the line and the zone was incredibly small, and it put the workponies on edge. Cutlass, who knew next to nothing about the cursed place, continued without fuss. Brush and Derek kept their cool, and to their surprise, so did Zecora.

"Aren't you scared?" Fluttershy asked her, but the zebra was busy muttering something to herself. When she noticed that the mare asked something, she stopped, and looked up:

"Did you said something?" she asked, the rhymes now missing from her speech.

"Y-Yes..." the pegasus shuddered "A-Aren't you scared?"

Zecora had a serious look on her face.

"Dear Fluttershy, indeed, there's no fear in me, as things often turn out to be different than what we first see..." she said, making a quick glance at the forecolt.

Halfway through the job, Brush' driver had suddenly and mysteriously taken ill, and had to be carried back. Zecora offered help in lessening his illness, but it was no good, he was far too sick to work, and his condition was growing worse at an alarming rate. So instead, to everyone's surprise, the forecolt asked if SHE wanted to be Brush' driver.

The remedist was reluctant at first, but after a worthy crash course about the controls, she decided to join in, while the forecolt replaced Cutlass' operator - the only other pegasus beside Fluttershy - who took the driver back by flight, as both engines were needed at the moment.

Derek wasn't feeling well, either. His engine had been working great for a surprisingly long time, and this now seemed to be catching up to him.

He coughed and wheezed, and his engine clanked louder and louder with each turn. Eventually, Fluttershy turned him off to cool down, AND to prevent another breakdown bonfire. She may be safe in the cab if such occurs, but then again, no one is safe around Derek when he breaks down. The Class 17 could only mutter his thanks to the pony, as they rested.

Brush and Zecora, on the other hand, were kept busy, now dealing with an increased workload as well, carrying the supplies Derek was supposed to deliver to the building sight. With only tracks available, moving around became tricky, but thankfully, for such reasons, switches were placed between the two lines, so Brush was able to push the empty equipment trucks back, and, when returning, pull the ones loaded with logs and wood away as well. The work went on right in front of Derek's eyes, who felt really useless, and really pathetic indeed. But he had gotten used to that. As they waited for his engines to cool off, they both dozed off, while the building continued. When they woke up, it was late in the afternoon, and the line was already built as far as they could see. Brush came rolling down on the other line, pulling a line of trucks full of broken branches.

"Ah! You're awake!" he smiled, passing by "Then help us out, would ya'?"

Fluttershy cautiously restarted Derek, his motors roaring into life with a neighing wheeze and plumes of thick black smoke, which quickly dispersed. All the noise woke up the still snoozing Angle bunny, who grumpily took a look around. He suddenly spotted something, and, patting Fluttershy's leg, he showed it to the mare.

Derek also noticed it.

"Hello?" he muttered "That's weird."

On the other line, there was a switch with a line leading into a woods. It could be mistaken for dead tracks used to safely derail runaways, but Derek could clearly see them running deep into the woods.

"I wonder where those lead to..." he pondered. So did Fluttershy.

They had completely forgotten where they were, and, after a run around to get onto the other line, they rolled down the siding leading into the darkness, away from the main line.

For some time, they traveled down the shady tracks, plunging deeper into the forest. Derek had no headlights, thanks to his face taking up his front, so all the light they had came from the cab's lamp, which's bulb was flickering badly, clearly near it's expiration.

As they rumbled onward, Angel grew anxious, and after a point, hid under Fluttershy's mane. The mare didn't noticed anything. She seemed to be in some sort of trance, eyes transfixed on the line ahead of them...

Soon, he saw large shapes emerging from the shadows.

"Buildings!" she exclaimed.

The next second, there was a loud bump, and she felt Derek's front drop. She immediately turned the brakes on, but it was no use. With a second bump, Derek's other bogie rolled of the rails as well. At last, Derek himself stopped. The next second, with one last flicker, the bulb went out, shrouding the mare and the rabbit in darkness. Angel was cowering, and hid under the control panel. Fluttershy decided to step out of Derek's cab, and examine what had happened.

It didn't took long to discover to full depth of their situation: Derek had quite literally rolled of the rails, and was now stranded in the soft ground.

The mare looked around, and trotted forward, examining the old buildings. Oddly enough, she felt The Thrill, but she didn't saw any reason to feel like that. All she was half demolished buildings and junk lying about.

But as she walked deeper into what appeared to be a ruined village, memories began to reemerge.

A town.

Ponies.

Blank flanks.

Blanks.

Blanks!

Her train of thoughts was derailed, when she noticed the ground moving in front of her. As it rose up, crumbling, it revealed what appeared to be a hoof...

...In an advanced state of decomposition.

Hyperventilating, Fluttershy began to reverse, as the long-dead creature crawled out of the ground, onto his hooves, and stared at her with dead, empty eyes...

"WhELl, KId..." it spoke, which sounded like smoke rising from a stake, but rather nonchalant at the same time "...wHAt CaN I sAy, yOU toOK yOuR TImE..."

It quickly jumped into role when others began to rise from the ground as well:

...The maaaaark...

...SSShe hasssss the maaaaarrrrk...

...Sssseize heeeerrr...

Fluttershy could bare no more. As the creatures began to surround her, she let out a cry...

That was probably heard from all the way to Canterlot.

Bursting through the horde like a battling ram, she ran towards Derek's direction, before she skidded to a halt.

"No! I can't run to back to him! He's helpless!"

She glanced around... The cursed villagers had her covered.

Nowhere to run!

Nowhere to hide!

A cold flame flared in her eyes, as they focused without an aim, as they took up The Stare. Raising her forelegs, she rose to her hind ones, staring the closest monster in the eye - or what was left of it. It seemed to stun it. It stopped, not grunting or groaning. However, the mare could feel a sickly feeling seeping from it.

Fear.

And she liked it.

She brought her hooves down on the undead creature's head with a force so great, it smashed it's crumbling skull straight into the ground. She didn't stopped there. Taking a quick glance back, her eyes still glowing with a cold light, she glared at the being behind her, before giving an almighty buck.

At least five of them crumbled into nothing, as she continued her rampage. They kept coming, although, now only by the pull of their dark instinct - they themselves reluctant about getting closer than a yard to the pony on berserk.

Rotting legs, broken-off jaws, cracked skulls, busted rib cages flew into the air, along with pieces of rotting meat.

After what felt like hours of battling, the onslaught finally stopped. She stood there, legs and tensed oped, heaving heavily, her glare scrolling the sea of body parts laid out around her. Slowly, she felt a smirk creep onto her face, but she restrained herself. Taking a deep breath, she trotted away from the dead bodies. But as she did, she heard a rustle from behind.

She spun around, then froze.

The corpses rebuilt themselves, and rose from the ground. New cracks were appearing all around here.

She tensed her muscles, even her wings, for the next battle, then looked around.

Ponies.

Dead ponies.

They were coming from everywhere, rising from their long-forgotten graves, pouring out from the dark forest, hissing and growling.

She didn't even know where to turn her head, and all her fears came crushing her down, as she noticed she couldn't even tell where she came from...

Exhausted by the fear and hopelessness, she collapsed to the ground, and waited for the first bite.

But it never came!

She opened her eyes, when a weird zooming sound echoed through the stiffened air, and a large portion of the dead beings was swept aside by a large limb. Two beams of light cut through the darkness, evaporating the blanks, but leaving her unharmed. She recognized them as artificial light. They came from a large, long body that was in the middle of the town, a single, two-sectioned limb extending from his top, now busily flinging the dark beings away, even picking up a few, and crushing it with it's jaw-like end. The mare could have sworn she heard mad, sadistic cackling.

Whatever was that thing, it was intelligent. And enjoying itself.

Shivering, the pegasus ran back towards Derek, illuminated by the light beams, the Thrill pounding within her again. The next second, she heard a horn - and it wasn't Derek's thunderous one!

It was Cutlass! The large machine crashed through the dense row of trees guarding the isolated village with the swiftness of a ballerina. Whooshing pass Fluttershy, he proceeded to mow down the zombies like a pro. The mare wanted to warn him about the other entity, but the long shape had disappeared.

Workponies rushed over to her aid, while Brush was already beginning to pull Derek back on the rails. Cutlass also had his lights on, and with the combined powers of his blades, and the trigger-happy (or more like saw-happy) workponies, the village was soon cleared of it's inhabitants... Along with most of the houses.

Despite his best efforts, Cutlass was still a large machine, and tended to knock things over when moving to hastily. And he was quite hasty right then.

Finally, the area was clear, and Derek was back on the rails again. While most of the workponies where out there, swinging their axes and chainsaw akin to Jack Torrance and Leatherface, a few, more sober and sensible ones were checking Derek and Fluttershy for any damage or injury.

Zecora climbed out the big diesel's cab, and trotted over to the last house. It was more like a hut, and it was, by far, in the best condition, compared to the others... Especially now.

"Hey! Don't go there! It's dangerous!" a mare called out to her, but she didn't seemed to hear. She just kept trotting towards the last house, chanting something, almost inaudibly.

The workponies watched, as the zebra began to utter something on her native language, closing her eyes, as she stopped in front of the half-collapsed porch...

Her words, though incoherent, echoed through their ears, repeating over and over again. It felt like an anthem, that touched their very souls, unveiled their deepest thoughts and beliefs, and rid them from all their worries and bothers. It was the Anthem of Souls.

Fluttershy was the only one who actually saw it.

A ghostly apparition, solidifying in front of the zebra, while the wind picked up. It looked like a pony, dressed in white, or more likely, made of white, as it hovered above the ground, a sorrow look on it's face.

Zecora finally stopped, and opened her eyes.

The ghost looked at her longingly.

"It's alright." she said, her voice becoming softer than it usually was "You're free to go now, Ruby."

The spirit smiled, and the next second, it spiraled into the air, it's form dispersing completely, as a final gush swept across the land, bringing the moaning of trees and the moisture stuck between them, a large, collective sigh of relief of the Everfree Forest.

The phenomenon was followed by a long silence. Nopony dared to speak, not wanting to break the solemnity of the moment.

"Waow. That was some serious spiritual gizmo right there!"

Indeed, nopony.

Cutlass smiled down at Fluttershy.

"You were brave, little pony." he spoke kindly "But you seemed like you need help, so I did!"

"And just in time, by the looks of things!" the forecolt added, leaning out from the machine's cab "You alright there?"

"I think so..." Fluttershy muttered "Did... Cutlass, did you see anything in the center of the village before you started your attack?"

The machine pondered.

"No..." it spoke finally "Beside the zomb-ponies, no-one."

"OK..." the mare exhaled, and fell onto the ground, unconscious.

The ponies fell silent again.

"Don't worry, everyone!" Derek declared "Just put her in my cab, and..."

The next second, with a loud BANG!, his engines burst into smoke, engulfing his body, and smothering the entire area with the thick, gray smog that made everyone cough. As his engines spluttered to a halt, he quietly muttered something in his embarrassment:

"...Or not..."

Episode 7 - "From Wales, with sneer!"

FROM WALES, WITH SNEER!

"And THIS is the before mentioned yard, a marshalling yard, to be specific."

If one would visit the Ponyville Marshalling Yards, he or she would find it a bustling place (well, depending on the time he or she may visit - the vacant hours are around noon and midnight). Workponies are moving about, the yard's shunting engines are arranging the trains, coming and going, around the clock. A place usually busy, it is not uncommon that you'd find many ponies all in one place, moving large mechanical parts, releasing the brakes of trucks, or quite the contrary, switching them on, fastening couplings, or examining rolling stock and machinery alike for any malfunction.

However, there was a group trotting about that was different from the yard's staff, yet, the workponies payed little attention - they were to busy.

Thankfully, Twilight was able to take a break for the morning, and guide the class through the yard for their field trip. With Cheerilee as the tail-ender, the small herd was held together... Well, for that moment, at least.

"Trains from local areas, such as Trottingham, Canterlot, and Manehattan, will come day in and day out, and certain parts of their load doesn't continue with them. So, a few trucks are taken out of the train, and added to another. Sometimes the whole train is dismantled, as each of it's wagons continue from here. Same goes for cross-country passenger trains."

Twilight was sure having fun, explaining things to the foals. Many ponies, including her friends, Cheerilee, and even some of the engines had asked her whether she wants to become a teacher.

Usually, she would merely blush, and dismiss the idea. However, it was times like these when she really felt like reconsidering it...

"Ya done yet? I still got some work to do - no matter how ridiculous that sounds - and you're making me late! Not that I really care, though..."

...Then again, not...

"...And here's one of our diesel locomotives." she spoke now, approaching the jet black Class 08, the foals in tow "His name, quite appropriately, is Diesel."

"'Morning." Diesel grumbled, stubbornly looking away with a frown. The little ponies didn't notice. They were awed by the sight of the engine. Twilight smirked. She had spent the last night scrubbing him down a bit, and now, he looked perfect - not too clean for a working engine, yet, not too dirty. His traction rods and wheels shone in the sunlight, his buffer plates and buffers were cleaned (yes, even behind them!), his ladder, one of the most prominent assets of him (aside from his eyebrows, nose, and the mentioned bulky silver gray traction rods), were free from grime, and his engine purred smoothly, good as new - a strong courtesy of the ever-earnest fitter and Number One Assistant, Spike!

Even Cheerilee herself seemed to be taken by the spirit of things.

Diesel, as predictable, was reluctant and nonchalant, grumbling sullenly.

"Right. Can anyone guess, what kind of engine Diesel is?" the mare asked.

One hoof was instantly up.

"Not you, Apple Bloom, you had already seen him work."

The filly lowered her hoof in disappointment.

"Anyone else?" the purple unicorn asked "Shall we describe him first, to make it easier?"

"It, I mean, HE, is not really big." Snips noted.

"Very observant." Twilight smiled "What else?"

"He's black." said Snails.

"Yes." Twilight smiled "Why do you think is that?"

Silence.

"'Cause... They were out of other paint?" Snails attempted again.

"Nnnot quite..." the unicorn muttered "Anypony else?"

"Oh, COME ON!" Sweetie Belle groaned "Isn't it obvious?!"

"WHAT is?" Cheerilee asked, surprised by the usually quiet filly's outburst.

"He's painted like that because black paint, unlike black dresses, makes the dirt less visible!"

The others were silent. Twilight seemed quite surprised.

"Exactly." Diesel replied instead, amazed "Glad to know at least SOMEone knows about liveries here."

Sweetie Belle looked away sheepishly.

"Not as much as liveries as dress colors. My sister told me that black dresses could hide certain kinds of splodges, though, not every kind..."

"Yeah, that's... That pretty much describes it..." the engine muttered, lost in his thoughts.

"Anything else you would note?" the mare asked again.

Diamond Tiara has been gazing at the engine for some time by now...

"Weeell..." she muttered "He's... Sort of small, and boxy, so I guess he wasn't built for speed, but he looks SOMEWHAT strong..."

"Very good!" Twilight smiled cheerfully. The filly just cast a cocky smirk at the disgruntled CMC.

"You nailed that." Diesel grumbled "I'm not made for speed. I'm made for traction and strength. "

"And you're painted black so that it doesn't really matters if you become dirty..." Silver Spoon went on, pondering "Are you a freight engine?"

"Well, not specifically, but do I work around with trucks all the time. And coaches."

"But you seem a bit small to be pulling trains..." said Twist.

"Size isn't everything, you know..." the engine muttered "I can pull trains just as easily as bigger engines, but not as fast, and perhaps not as far. But with all the work I do here in the yard, I bet I do just as many miles as Old Stuck-Up, for example." he grumbled, casting a glower at the express speeding by on the main line.

"Wait, so you work around in the yard?" Scootaloo asked "Do you ever leave it?"

"Tactical question." Diesel declared "Indeed, I mostly work here in the yard, but some times, I take a small train to nearby stations and yards. I mostly take trucks, as I was not built for pulling passenger trains..."

"So..." Ink Blot muttered "You work around in the yard, with trucks and coaches, but you don't take passenger trains, or longer freight trains, and you're more built for strength than speed..."

"Which means you're..." Sweetie Belle began... All eyes were on her...

"I don't know..." she backed out.

Apple Bloom could take no more.

"OH, FOR PETE'S SAKE!" she hollered "HE'S A SHUNTER!"

"A what?" the rest of the class asked.

"Yes. I am." the Class 08 uttered, surprised by the filly's outburst again.

"What's a shunter, Ms. Sparkle?" Pip asked.

"A shunter, or shunting engine, also known as a switcher, yard pilot or, in rare cases, a shifter, is type of smaller, low-gear engine, either steam, diesel, or electric, that is primarily used to move rolling stock around in short distances, and arrange them into trains."

"Oooooh!" the exclamation rose from the class like a collective moan. Then Snips asked:

"What's low-gear?"

The shunter was quick to reply:

"Low-gear means that I can't go fast, but I can pull trucks very well. Can we go now?! We're already late as it is!"

"Very well!" the mare smiled "Because you'll be demonstrating shunting work, so everypony, ALL ABOARD!"

Diesel deadpanned.

"Reely?" he asked, only to have a film reel hit him straight on the roof after falling out of nowhere "OW! THE HELL?!"

The two mares and the foals just stared at the reel (now slightly dent) as it landed on the ballast beside them. There was a small sticker on it, reading "Night of the Living Dead".

"Inquisitive." Twilight muttered, and levitated it onto an empty oil drum beside the shed wall.

"Anyways... Who's ready to be an engineer?"

And on that cue, a chorus of cheery "Me!"s rose from the class. The unicorn and the earth pony mare exchanged content looks, but the diesel seemed less enthusiastic.

"Twilight, there's NO WAY they could all fit in my cab!"

The purple pony just smirked.

"That's why I called help. GUYS!"

"Help?" Diesel asked back, and glanced to the side.

Rumbling lowly, a cleaned and polished 'Arry and Bert stopped beside him. Their paintwork was brand new, a darker, green-tinted BR Freight Gray paint on the body, aside from the yellow stripe going along the side in the level of the cab windows (the words "BARROW IRONWORKS" had been painted off from it), the cab itself also being yellow, now both of them sporting a two-tone (black and gray) British Rail symbol. The only thing that remained unpainted were their wheels, traction rods, buffers and buffer plates: still black with dirt and grime. Moreover, 'Arry stubble had been shaved into a subtle soul patch that extended over onto his chin, while Bert still had a five o'clock shadow. They carried an impression of strength incomparable with Diesel.

"Oh." the shunter exclaimed "THIS'LL be a disaster-tour!"

After an... Eventful shunting crash course through the yard, in which they managed to arrange ten trains (as opposed to the daily seven), with the help of foals and a teacher with no profession in this sort of work, the class and the two mares have arrived onto one of the platforms. It was long and narrow, and had little decoration.

"And this is our main goods platform. All freight trains stop here, or at our secondary platform behind the building. Now Ponyville itself may not be an important stop, but many trains pass here, most of which has to depart with less loads. We arrange it in the marshalling yard, and another train picks up the right trucks. Same goes for some passenger trains. All in all, we're kept busy, and this yard is working twenty-four hours a day. It's hard work, and..."

"...That's why I'm here right now!" a voice interrupted.

They all looked up, surprised.

At the end of the platform stood a soaring tall figure, wearing a dark blue railwaymen coat, dark trousers, sharp black shoes with triangle-based soles, and a black peaked cap with the Equestrian Rail symbol on it's front. He was tall and humanoid, yet simplified: a perfectly round head, no ears or nose, trapeze-shaped eyes with black irises, wide shoulders and the upper torso narrowing towards the waist, making a triangle shape again, legs (or, at least the trousers) widening towards the feet clad in the sizable shoes. His arms were like that, too: widening towards the hand, his fingers long and sharp, like claws. But his eyes showed peace and long eons of experience. He smiled gently at them, eyes quickly returning to the clipboard he was writing into. He was tall, even by Equestrian standards: he probably towered over Princess Celestia herself... Well, if you call ten inches "towering over".

He finished writing, and returned to the crowd, now spotting a smile as well.

"Alexei!" Twilight cheered, and galloped towards the deity. But then, she skidded to a halt, as the foals and Cheerilee caught up with her.

"Excuse me..." she muttered "I mean, Mr. Alexei!" he was her superior after all. But the god smiled, ever so kindly.

"It's very nice to meet you, Ms. Sparkle." he addressed her, then looked at the class and Cheerilee.

"And who may I respect in your persons?" he bowed to them slightly.

"I'm Cheerilee." the Fandango and Red-violet mare replied "And this is the class."

One by one, the colts and fillies introduced themselves.

The god listened carefully, then replied.

"Well, my name is Alexei. I'm the controller of the railway, and..."

"Wait, so YOU own the railway?" Diamond Tiara asked.

"No, that's Princess Celestia." the figure replied "She's the Chairmare. She takes care of the financial stuff and the demands. Princess Luna is the director. She's a bit like you there, Ms. Sparkle: she LOVES to organize, and does it pretty damn well, I may ad."

Twilight blushed. Alexei went on.

"And I'm the controller. I carry out things, and I'm intent on keeping this railway ship-shaped, up-to-date, well, by Equestrian standards, anyway, and make everything go like clockwork."

"Excuse me..." Silver Spoon interrupted "What was your name again?"

"Oh..." he replied "It's Alexei."

"...Funny name..." the gray filly muttered.

"Well, it IS foreign." the figure admitted "I mean, I'm not even from this world..."

"What?!" the foals were stunned. The controller grinned.

"Why... I am, pretty much like your princesses, a deity."

"A what?" Snails asked.

"A deity." Sweetie Belle explained rhetorically "An immortal or longevous being, who can hardly be injured or fall ill, and possessed great powers. A god or demigod, basically."

The others just stared.

"What?" the filly asked, as Scootaloo scuttled close to her.

"You went total dictionary again..." she whispered. Sweetie blushed, and looked sheepishly away.

"Anyways..." Alexei went on "The Royal Industrial Inspector is Prince Blueblood, but he's busy visiting another province at the moment, that's why I'm here, and..."

"Hang on, so all the royals are involved with the operation of the railway?" Cheerilee asked, a bit surprised.

"Well, Princess Cadence isn't, she's busy otherwise." the deity explained "But yeah, the Princesses, ME... It is a fully nationalized company after all..."

"Nationalized?" Snips asked.

"Owned by the state." Sweetie explained, then blushed, and looked away.

"If only you could do this during tests..." her teacher muttered.

"Anyways, it's the same in every province of the Equestrian Federal Monarchy." Alexei went on "The county leaderboard of the Western region, the supreme kollies in Stalliongrad Oblast, the congress of Phillydelphia, and even in some countries of the Europonian Union. We all look into the railway's well-being, as the economy is pretty much dependent on it."

"Right... Well..." Twilight seemed a bit disoriented after the onslaught of information "Rail transport isn't only made of goods stations. There are passenger trains as well. But first, we'll be visiting one of our near-by freight contractors, to see how the railway helps the market." she said, pointing a hoof at the other platform. Spamcan stood there, with Applejack beside him, waving at the crowd. Behind the now moderately dirty engine was a row of vans, waiting to be delivered to Sweet Apple Acres. But right behind the diesel was old, open-topped carriage.

"I guess... Applejack would be taking over from here..." Alexei smirked.

"Yes!" the lavender unicorn replied "Let's trot over, shall we?"

As the foals boarded the open carriage, Cheerilee glanced at the sky.

"I hope it wouldn't rain." she spoke "This coach doesn't provides much shelter."

"Oh don't worry, I'm sure Rainbow Dash has taken care of that." Twilight smiled, and looked up as well. Indeed, there were no clouds on the sky, and the late spring sun was shining brightly.

"I haven't seen Rainbow Dash since about a week by now..." the Fandango mare added "Is she alright?"

"I... Don't... Know..." Twilight muttered, thinking back "I haven't seen her for days, either..."

"She dis'ppea'd afte' we gave 'er a buc'e' kic'in' 'bou' 'er be'avio'..." Spamcan spoke up.

"Bucket-kicking?" Scootaloo asked in alarm.

"We told 'er off." Applejack replied "Le's say, she wasn't re'lly bein' in her element that day..."

"Element? You don't mean..." Scootaloo was bewildered "She was... Disloyal?"

"...Quite..." Twilight admitted on a bitter tone "She ditched Pinkie Pie when she had put herself in an awkward predicament in favor of supporting Gilda."

"But wasn't she doing that out of loyalty towards Gilda?" the orange filly asked, with little hope.

"She did the exact opposite nearly a year ago." the lavender unicorn replied "She was just switching sides now. I'm sorry, Scootaloo..." she finished, lowering her head.

The little pegasus just slumped onto the carriage's floor with a tristful look. Her friends came to her aid, while the two snobbish fillies just snickered on her misfortune. Twist frowned, and was about to scold the two bullies, when something caught her eye.

"Hey... What's that?" she asked, pointing into the distance. The others followed her hoof, and saw it... Whatever it was...

It was hard to describe...

From that distance, it looked like a lump of cleverly positioned scrap metal. But there was something peculiar about it.

"Oh, that..." Alexei muttered, looking at the weird object "That thing has a history. Do you have any time?"

"...Sure." Applejack replied, getting herself comfortable. So did the others.

"It's not that much of a long story..." the figure admitted "A few days ago, I ventured back into the home world of the engines, planet Earth. I was there for a reason. In the country of Wales - I think that's Wells in this world - on it's top, left-hand corner, there was a small, private railway that was under closure, and many items of it were on auction. An old, eccentric lady owned it, who was very wealthy, and after her death, the railway inherited her fortune. There was also a small income that came from a gold mine in the near-by mountains, very rich, but it's owner, an aged man, had kept it a secret to prevent a gold rush."

He paused, briefly.

"I originally went there to buy the steam engine that worked on that railway, a small, green tank engine. It was a special sort: it's whistle has been replaced by steam organ pipes, giving it the ability to "sing". I didn't managed to buy him, but I was glad when I heard that a preservation society did. However, there was something else that caught my eye instead. It was among the many cachectic rolling stock, and for a long time, I took no notice of it - the only thing rumored to be "alive" on this railway was the steam engine, but that was in good hands."

He took a long look at the object himself, before turning back to the class

"But as the auction progressed, I noticed that... No-one picked that lump of scrap. As more and more stuff was taken away, I could recognize parts of the thing more easier. I asked a salesman, and he told me that the object in question was once something that once vaguely resembled a locomotive. It was a makeshift vehicle that was built out of bits and bobs, when the steam engine of the railway was apparently sent away. They towed it out from the lake near the gold mine. It was a loop of thoughts, but I bought it. So, it's here now."

"What are ya gonna do with it?" Apple Bloom asked. The god seemed to be lost is his thoughts for a moment.

"I'll try to repair it, and I may get help from the Princesses." he spoke, surprising the others "After all, with all the diesels around, it's best they learn how an internal combustion engine works..."

As the train rumbled down the track, the three fillies kept pondering. The others were chatting about the next stop of their tour, but they were preoccupied with something.

"You know..." Scootaloo began "These new machines only give us more possibilities."

"Yeah, I was thinkin' 'bout the same thang!" Apple Bloom added "Remember what Mr. Alexei said 'bout the princesses needin' to learn how ta fix an internal combuster engine?"

"Internal combusTION engine!" Sweetie Belle frowned "We might as well try it our self!"

"Now there's an idea!" the young applefarmer cheered "Mah sister works with Spamcan, yer sister works with Old Stuck-Up, an' Twilight works with Diesel!"

"And Spike!" Scootaloo added "Don't forget Spike! He's the fitter of the engines!"

"They'll sure be able to teach us!" Sweetie smiled brightly.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Apple Bloom grinned, and the three jumped up.

"Cutie Mark Crusaders Engineers YAY!" and they clapped hooves.

Cheerilee, who had heard it all, only sighed, and gave a knowing smile.

"This'll be interesting." she thought "At least, they'll be turning to the right ponies."

"So, where is this... "Juggernaut" of yours?" the princess of the night asked.

"Around this shed... Here!" he said, opening his arms, and showing them... It...

It was hard to describe what it was.

"Just what is this?" Celestia asked.

"A makeshift diesel railway engine." Alexei explained.

"A diesel engine? THIS?!" Luna replied, bewildered by the sight, though the term "makeshift" was PRETTY MUCH an understatement. It was hard to describe it, even after the many machines the royal sisters have seen in the pass few months. Even Alexei's road vehicle photo collection proved to be useful in this case.

As for the... THING in front of them, well, it was hard to decide what it really was.

For starters, it was incredibly corroded, and looked close to falling apart on it's own.

"Is it even worth to try?" the solar goddess asked "It's rustier than our oldest armor in the Royal Museum."

"EVERYTHING'S worth at least ONE try..." the foreign god replied, and with a flick of his finger, the oxidation was peeled of from the machine, the now thinned metal parts thickening back into their original size... It was still unpainted and the uncovered metal was dull. The princesses could still hardly comprehend the object before them... At least, they could recognize parts of it...

It was a mish-mash, standing weakly on four flanged wheels, large part of it was made of an old crank-starter lorry (the handle still in it's place), with flatbed made out of another machinery part, makeshift as well. An uncovered drive-shaft was dangling between the wheels, and the cab was missing it's doors and windows. It had buffers, they looked like they belonged to an old carriage - they were long long and flimsy. The motor itself barely covered, as the side doors of the engine blocks were missing as well.

If the patchwork machination had any lamps, they had been broken off. It was in dismal state, even without the layers of grime, rust, and cheap paint.

"Alright... Where do we begin?" Celestia asked, eager to begin, now that she could make out what they were "up against".

"Well, first of all..." the figure began, taking off his coat "We'll take it apart, and try to figure out what makes it go... What MADE it go..." he corrected himself.

"Oh, that's easy!" Luna snickered "We'll just POKE it and it'll fall apart."

"Luna, we have to do this professionally!" he sister scolded her. The god just laughed. It was going to be an interesting day...

After they took it apart (with more and less success), the figure overlooked the parts laid out before them, and sighed...

"This isn't good... Everything in it's motor is damaged beyond repair."

It's pistons are stiff as sculptures, and the cylinders and the radiator was cracked, the camshaft itself was held together by the crank's rod, the fuel tank had completely disappeared, and the exhaust pipe had rotten apart. The chassis and the body seemed to be and easy job, only a few dents left after the decorrosion spell.

Alexei was surprised to find out that the chassis was made of stainless steel.

"At least, this thing has a low center of gravity." he muttered.

"And that's good, right?" the elder princess asked, using her magic to rub the grime off from it.

"Yes indeed. There's less chance that this thing would topple over."

The undercarriage was in relatively good condition. The drive shaft just needed a bit of readjustment, and the flanged wheels were easy to replace. But the axle's were rusted stuck. They actually had to chisel them out from the suspension to replace them. They were surprised (or, at least Alexei was), when they examined the suspension.

"Leaf springs?" he exclaimed "This thing is ANCIENT!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Luna scoffed "Most of our modern and up-to-date carriages use..." it dawned to her "Leaf... Spring... Suspension... Oh..."

After long hours of juggling with the parts, spare parts and tools, something modestly resembling a rail lorry was pushed out onto the sunlight.

They made some final adjustments out in the open. It was still unpainted and had dents and rough welding here and there, but they had already done a lot. Fortunately for the three deities, the engine block was still intact.

As they made their last checks, Diesel, who was shunting near by, pulled up beside them. He eyed up the machine, and the trio working on it. Both Celestia and Luna tied their hairs and manes into ponytails - Celestia even tied them into a knot - and their fur was stained with sweat and grease... Alexei was now wearing some old, ripped jeans and a white shirt, both covered in dust and oil splodges. He had taken off his hat revealing his perfectly round head.

"Just WHAT on Earth is THAT?" Diesel asked, casting a scornful look at the machination.

"Oh..." the god looked up "It's a Juggernaut."

"A 'juggernaut'? THIS?!" the shunter grumbled "Don't fool yourself, your majesties."

"It does look kinda small and feeble to fit something of that description." Twilight admitted quietly, not wanting to belittle the work of her mentor and her friends.

"That may be..." the foreign god replied, wiping his forehead "But that was the exact name they told me about it. Nothing more, aside from the fact that they've fished it out from the bottom of a lake."

"Yeah, I could've guessed." the shunter growled.

"But anyways, back to work, Diesel." Celestia goaded him "You have an agreement to keep, remember?"

"Yeah... Yeah, I do..." the Class 08 groaned "Well, if you're intent on playing 'Bodgy Builder' for the next few weeks, I'm not going to be the one to spoil your "fun"... Toot toot, good luck!" and with that, he oiled away.

"Well, we're actually intent on fixing this... Thingamajig!" the younger princess shouted after the engine, clearly frustrated.

"Don't let him bother you." Alexei soothed her "He's just being Diesel. Bastard at best."

"He's just a bitter sort, Lulu, pay no heed to him..." her sister added, gently nudging her "Anyways, we better get things started."

"Yes indeed." the god added "Do you want to be the first, Luna?"

"First what?"

"First one behind the controls..."

"Meee?" the dark blue alicorn stammered, and cast an intimidated glance at Juggernaut "I don't think so..."

"Are you scared, dear sister?" Celestia chuckled "Oh well, then I'll be the first." and with that, she climbed into the cab, putting a hoof on the throttle (once the crank of a bus' destination blind), and the other on the brakes (a reinforced Trabant gear stick). There was also a third, rather large lever, awfully close to the seat (once the backseat of a school bus). That was the reverser, but now, it was left in neutral.

The dashboard/control panel was devoid of any tachometer or speedometer.

Not aware of the awkwardness of the controls and the lack of safety displays, the Princess called out:

"OK, you can start it!"

Luna subtly took a few steps back, as Alexei bent down, and started to turn the handle. After a few idling rounds, he heard a clank, and suddenly found the crank harder to move... With a few swift turns and rambunctious clanking, the old motor banged to life, rattling fiercely.

"'Eeeey!" the god cheered, nearly avoiding getting a mouthful of soot from the motor.

"Huzzah!" Luna cried out, nearly jumping in her joy.

Celestia smiled.

Then...

There was a loud BANG!

A thick plume of smoke shot out from the tall exhaust pipe going along the cab's frame.

A further BANG!

The engine began to splutter and spew smoke, then, after a few thumping rounds, it stopped altogether, smog pouring out from the motor.

Coughing, Luna quickly trotted out of the smoke's path, walking up next to Alexei, the latter already holding fire extinguisher. They were soon joined by a sooty Celestia, and kept staring at the fumigating machine, feeling distraught...

After the smoke gone out, they inspected the damage. There wasn't much, but the motor need replacements yet again... With a sight, they pushed it back into the small shed.

"Oh well... Better luck next time." The sun princess smiled optimistically.

"So... Tomorrow, back here?" the god asked.

"Yes. Same time." the lunar goddess added.

So they came back next day.

And the day after that.

AND the day AFTER that.

The week was drawing to it's end, and their progress was little.

The second day, the same had happened: after an initially successful start-up, the machine spluttered to a halt.
The third day, it boiled over - the radiator hose had melted!

On the fourth day, they couldn't even start it. No matter how they clamped and tinkered, it just wouldn't budge.

The Princesses and the controller were growing tired of the "antics" of the machine.

"I can't believe it..." Alexei growled on the fourth afternoon "We're bloody immortal, god-like beings, who had lived for flippin' EONS, and we're not able to fix a soddy, secondhand, patchwork diesel!"

"Maybe it's not us..." Luna pondered "Maybe it's the machine. We're certainly trying our best to fix the cursed thing." she added, glaring at the machine kicking the frame of which sent a shudder across the contraption.

CoBo and Gilda, who had been resting near by, and had been listening to the curses and swears of the three deities, exchanged looks.

"I honestly don't know, why are you bothering with that old pile of scrap, your highness..." the Class 28 spoke "It's hopeless!"

"Hey, those workmen back in Britain spent time to fix ya, and THEY managed!" the god snapped at him "Everybody else thought you were hopeless as well! But those few men had faith! Without them, you wouldn't be here!"

CoBo pondered.

"True..." he admitted "But I don't give a damn. That's the past. Besides, THAT thing is far more older a shabbier than I was. But, whatever suits your fancy." he added, after seeing the glares of the three godly beings, albeit still nonchalantly.

"Perhaps..." Gilda spoke up "Perhaps... You should check the gas?"

The two alicorns deadpanned, while a dismayed look spread across the figure's face... Slowly, he squatted down, next to the cap of the fuel tank, and removed it, the two alicorns leaning down beside him. After peeking into the tank, he knocked on it's side.

Dry as desert...

Very slowly, they rose up, a derp look on Luna's face, while the elder sister's pupils shrunk, her left eye twitching.

SLAP!

A hand flew into Alexei's face. It was his own, as he gave a long, tired sigh under his facepalm...

"I regenerated too many times for this shit..." he muttered.

"Glad to be at your service!" the diesel called out, and rumbled away.

After refilling the tank, they cranked it up, the same clanking following, but the engine kept rattling steadily now.

The three gave a nod of approval.

"Alright." Alexei muttered "Let's give this baby a go."

"Baby?" the Princess of the Night asked "Don't you mean, "old fart"?"

The figure and the Princess of the Day smirked.

"Yeah, I guess we could say that..." he replied. They all climbed in, with the foreign good taking place behind the controls. They were on the right side, like how the steering wheel is on British vehicles. He released the brakes (the Trabant gear stick being suspiciously wonky), and set the pushed the throttle forward.

Nothing happened.

Then engine was revving loudly, the tall exhaust pipe shaking with every backfire, but they weren't moving.

"It's still in neutral." Celestia pointed it out, and moved the large level forward.

With a jolt, Juggernaut shot forward.

After the initial surprise, the three laboring immortals were quick to enjoy their success.

"Bless my word, Alex, it's working!" Celestia cried "We're actually moving!"

"And fast, too!" Luna added happily. They weren't moving that fast - scraping 40 km/h from the bottom - but it was progress.

"Nothing can stop us now!" the younger sister added. Slowly, Alexei turned towards her, a horrified look plastered on his face. No sooner had Luna finished her sentence, there was a loud CLANK! The front of the machine jumped up, then came crashing down, the front now lower and oddly leaning to the side.

Glancing out, they saw the reason why: they've lost a wheel.

Mentally exhausted, Alexei leaned onto the dashboard/control panel, cowering his face with his folded arms. One would think he was weeping. The two princesses were clear that he was actually trying to cover up the tidal wave of swears that burst out of his mouth like lava from a volcano - his attempts of subtly covering it up all in vain.

Celestia cast a tired glance at her sister.

"Jinx." was all she said. Luna looked away, very embarrassed.

"As they said..." the controller muttered "Nothing can sink this ship, except 'CRASH' an iceberg..."

"Did they really said it like that?" Celestia asked.

"Were you on the Titanic?" the god grumbled back.

"No..."

"Then shut your face..."

It was the fifth day's afternoon, when they decided they'll get professional help: they called Spike.

"I'm not sure, Princess..." the baby dragon admitted "I'm only a fitter, not an inspector."

"An inspector is nothing more than a fitter who forgot HOW to fix an engine with his hooves, but remembers all the nitpicks." Celestia smirked "You actually KNOW how to work with your hands, so you'll be a splendid inspector!"

"...If you say so." Spike replied "Now, where's that enginuuueeeehh-WHAT?!"

He couldn't believe his eyes.

"What on Equestria is THAT?!" he gasped.

"A Juggernaut." Luna replied innocently.

"A what-a-nut?"

Alexei sighed.

"It's a bloody lorry on flanged wheels."

Spike deadpanned.

"Still don't get it."

"A makeshift diesel!" the three deities snapped.

"Oh. Oooh! OK, I can see that, sheesh!"

After climbing in - or on, as Spike and Luna decided to travel on the machines' flat bed.

After a few crank turns, the engine started up with it's usual ear splitting rattle.

"Now THAT already doesn't sounds good..." the dragon muttered.

"It has been rotting in the bottom of a lake for roughly seventy years by now, what did you expect?" Luna asked sarcastically.

"I don't think it has legit green-card..." Alexei added.

"I doubt it'll even GET one, with THESE emission levels..." Spike put in, pointing at the fumigating exhaust pipe.

"Well, anyway, let's have a test run, shouldn't we?"

Setting the lever into 'forward', they started with a jerk, but then moved on steadily.

After a bit of run around the yard - in which Princess Celestia discovered how inconvenient was the placement of the reverser lever, as whenever it was put in reverse, the truck-gear-stick-sized thing was pushed painfully into her groin - they were allowed to go on the main line (mainly because the two princesses, AND the controller was on the vehicle).

They trundled down the line, leaving half a yard length of smoke in trail, giving anyone near by a coughing spree.

After an unknown pony tossed a horseshoe at them, they sped the machination up, and roared away, leaving a literal cloud of smog.

Up in Pyker's Peak, the mine was busy as usual.

They were in the middle of work, when suddenly, a brassy horn cut through the air, shaking it. Everyone stopped.

There was a strange noise coming from the distance.

"What a queer sound..." a workpony remarked.

"Sounds like a diesel choking to death." an electric engine, a large and bulky one remarked.

"Yes, on a burning electric's fumes." came the reply from the other party with a sneer.

The horn went off again, this time, louder, as it's source was drawing nearer.

"What the..." one of the miners uttered...

Roaring (or more like spluttering) into the yard came Juggernaut, spewing smoke as usual, clattering into the yard on the standard gauge tracks, screeching to a halt with a painfully long break distance.

Stepping out of it was none other than Princess Celestia herself, in all her... Workmare... Glory?

Her usual golden horseshoes were replaced by comfortable Kevlar workshoes, her regal kerchief not present at all, her crown discarded into her saddlebags (nothing special, just some old, alicorn-size brown school saddlebags), her aethereal mane and tail tied in ponytails, and her fur having just the slightest hint of dust on it, here and there...

She was joined by Princess Luna, in a similar attire, but she actually had a red neckerchief around her neck.

The miners and workers were stunned. Then, one by one, their pupils turned into hearts, as their own hearts started to beat twice as fast - one for them, one for the princesses.

Needless to say, quite a few hard-working stallions found their long-lost faith in the monarchy - or, at least, the diarchs - which only increased, when a month later, Prince Blueblood gave the sack to their egoistic and pompous trade union leader, and they could FINALLY select someone more suitable for the job.

"OK... We'll have. To fix. The brakes." Alexei muttered slowly, as he climbed out as well. "That was terrible!"

"Yeah..." Celestia added "It had been a long time since I actually felt mortal fear... But, it's still the same, as I remember it..."

"Why, what did your remember about it?" Luna asked.

"That I didn't like it." her sister replied with a grimace "Not at all."

"Well, I'm glad that at we finally stopped." Spike exhaled "I'm going to take a nap now." and with that, he climbed back onto the flatbed, falling asleep almost instantly. He was soon joined by an equally tired Luna (hey, she does night shifts, OK?).

"We wish to speak with your manager." Celestia announced.

"COmInG!" said a croaky voice, that made the two awake deities wince.

Looking around a bit further, they found the source: coming from the highest window of a run-down looking, old-fashioned red brick office building, where a dented and wonky loud-hailer was poking out... Soon enough, the voice behind it - an incredibly agile old stallion with a knee-reaching white beard and sinew-reaching white mane came running towards them, a dented, scraped mining helmet on his lamp with a cracked lamp, his orange, light-reflecting working vest carrying the Miner's Guild emblem: a golden horseshoe on the silhouette of a hoof, with a pickaxe diagonally placed on it. His cutie-mark was similar: a diagonal pickaxe, but this one had a diamond blade, and it was laid across a crate of TNT, all clearly displayed on his Apricot flanks, his tail cut short and braided at it's very beginning - a tradition of dwarven ponies. Yet, he couldn't be a dwarf, or at least, not a full-blooded one: he was rather tall and skinny, but that might have been because of his old age, plus, many great dwarfs were known to be rather large. Not just tall, but LARGE, all over - like giants!

He galloped over to them.

"Good dy, Princess!" he called out to them "Wha' brin's you 'ere?"

"Good day, Magnus!" Celestia replied with a smile "And nothing in particular. Just trying out our dismal attempts in engineering."

Magnus' eyes widened.

"Re'lly?" he asked, and looked pass the two immortal, when his eyes squinted, and he pulled his head back "Is THAT thing behind you the fruit of your attempts?"

"Yes." Alexei replied "It's called Juggernaut. We managed to fix it up, somewhat. This thing had been rotting deep in the bottom of a lake, and it wasn't in the best condition to begin with, being made out of odds and ends..." he explained, not noticing an ominous creaking sound from behind.

"Right..." the old miner replied "Say, what are the brakes are on this... Jugge'naut of yours?"

"Horrid." Celestia laughed, shaking a hoof in a dismissing motion.

"I can see that..." Magnus chuckled "It's running away!"

"WHAT?!" the two gasped, and turned around, finally hearing the creaking. Juggernaut was indeed fleeing, after the brakes failed completely, altogether.

"OI! STOP! SLAM ON THE BRAKES!" Alexei yelled, running after the machine, rather stupidly: he could of teleported into it, making things much easier for the future, but then again, this was a sudden situation, and one cannot always cope with things quickly. Besides, we'll need this twist later for plot development.

"I can' 'ear ya, lad! It isn't alive!" the old stallion laughed.

"But it'll crash!" Celestia gasped.

"Yah can bet it will!" Magnus replied between two laughs "Derail at the corner, and fall, rrright into the ditch!" he guffawed.

"But Luna and Spike! They were sleeping on the flatbed!" the controller exclaimed.

"Oh." Magnus wasn't laughing anymore.

"They'll be seriously injured if that thing crashes!" the princess added, getting closer to panic.

"Oh, dear..." the miner uttered, now very worried himself.

"Oh, where's that trumpet?" Alexei spoke, searching under his coat furiously.

"What trumpet?" the stallion asked.

"AHA! Here it is!" the god exclaimed victoriously, pulling out a small, red funnel.

"THAT'S a trumpet?" a workpony asked. Alexei inhaled deeply, and gave it a blow. It sounded exactly like an elephant with a runny nose.

"They'll never hear that!" Celestia groaned.

"Oh, Spike will!" the god replied "He's a dragon!" and he blew the horn again.

Back on the flatbed, Spike was woken by a peculiar buzz in his ears. Fins. Whatever he has!

"Huh... Wha'?" he mumbled, looking around sleepily, yawning. He stopped, mouth still open, as his eyes opened wide as well. The scenery was rapidly passing by - faster than what they recorded as Juggernaut's top speed. Suspecting trouble, he peeked into the cab - and found NOPONY!

Scared, he began to shook the Princess of the Night.

"Ah! There they go!" exhaled the controller with relief, as the silhouette of the alicorn became visible in the sky.

"A-And there goes your... JUGGERNAUT!" Magnus guffawed, pointing forward.

As he predicted, once the machination reached the bend, it's rear wheels tore off, and dragged the rest along. Near the bend was the cliff, and one hundred meters below, a muddy ditch...

As it rolled over the the edge, it flipped around, nose facing the swamps below...

It took two hours to get back to the shed...

Spike hopped off, followed by three tired deities.

Celestia trotted a bit further, looking at the ground with sorrow in her eyes. Slowly, she turned her head back.

Juggernaut was drenched in mud, it's front totaled, the engine wheezing all the way and leaking oil badly, the wheels loose, and the entire construct looked like it was sent through a concrete mixer a couple of times.

"Well... That's that then..." Alexei muttered flatly. Luna's head hung low, her eyes closed. Those many hours... Wasted away...

"We'll come back tomorrow, and see if there's anything we could use as spares, then..." the god took a deep breath "I'll guess we'll have to scrap it...

The Solar goddess just nodded.

They all began to walk away, but Luna stopped, hesitating. She turned her head back at the destroyed machine, and sighed.

"Well, goodbye, Juggernaut." she muttered "Sad it has to end like this... You could've been such a useful engine.."
.
The lorry, of course, didn't reply, and the younger princess trotted away silently...

It was the end, really... The engine block had cracked, and there was little hope in finding a fitting new one.

Plus, they've lost their motivation. Fixing the machine with magic wasn't really in the spirit of things, given the fact that the Princesses were supposed to learn how to FIX it with tools. And in longer terms, using magic to fix mechanical objects wasn't exactly favorable: the metal, similar to a paperclip bent back and forth too many times, will eventually weaken and break.
A few workponies pushed the wrecked machine back into the shed, and closed it's doors.

That night was restless. Clouds kept covering the moon, and the wind blew constantly in rapid, strong breezes, making ponies uneasy.

Even the moon itself shone eerily that night, Princess Luna herself felt beside herself in the courtrooms, unable to think clear.

Back in the old shed, the light of the princess' celestial body hit the destroyed Juggernaut in a peculiar way. His entire form was enveloped in the light, suddenly starting to glow by itself. It's dents smoothed, it's broken parts were mended, and pieces of it, believed to be lost to time and erosion, reappeared. An new coat of paint covered the mended machination, and from the depths of what seemed like existence itself, a deep inhale wheezed - the first breath of a soul...

Gentle, yet very audible snoring filled the slightly stiff air in the old shed.

The next morning, the three deities walked up to the shed, once again.

Neither of them spoke. They were all loss for words, deep in thought... Celestia was considering their efforts spent on fixing the patchwork machine, and trying to find a place of these efforts. What where they exactly doing? Trying to fix a broken machine? Or trying to wake the dead? Trying to bring a soulless, or more likely ALREADY DEAD (back) object to life? She couldn't decide...

Luna, who didn't had that much meetings during the night, decided to play a game on the machines that Alexei lent her, what he recalled a "television" and a "video game console". Soon, she found herself playing the "Earthbound/Mother" series through the larger part of the night, and, after her sister took over, as the morning began, she found herself suffering from intervals of self-inducted insomnia and deranged, lucid dreams...

Needless to say, she didn't exactly looked "alright". The others noticed that as well...

"Are you alright Luna?" her sister asked, to which she didn't reacted.

"Yeah, you look like you've seen..." Alexei pondered "I don't know, Giygas itself..."

Luna's eyes opened wide. Dangerously wide.

In fact, the others could see a red rim on the very edge of his eyelids, where the eyeballs joined to the muscles. Her irises and pupils had shrunk into dots, and a downright horrified became present on her face. Very slowly, with significant shaking, she turned her dilated eyes towards her sister and colleague, her head following with a bit of delay. The others took a step back, and Alexei could swore he heard Giygas' theme from the very edge of his consciousness, but slowed down by 800%.

Celestia would've swore to, but she knew next to nothing about Giygas.

Yet...

"Don't... Mention... That name...." Luna uttered. She didn't seemed to be breathing at that moment.

"Okay..." Celestia whispered. followed by a nod from the humanoid.

Luna slowly turned her head and eyes away from them, as the eerie ambiance of before-mentioned video game hell spawn's theme became audible. Or, at least, that's what they thought...

"Well, anyways!" Celestia spoke up with a bright smile, the traumatic atmosphere dispersing quickly "We got a lump of scrap to dismantle, so let's get to it!"

The others smiled as well and agreed, most glad that the disturbing feeling had disappeared.

Alexei, being the only one out of the three who had arms, flung the doors wide open.

And the disturbia returned, but in a much lighter edition.

"Bore da!" it said.

The three immortals stared. And blinked.

"Uuuuhh... Bore da?" Alexei replied, surprised to hear the Welsh greeting.

There was a long pause...

"Well... This is... Unexpected..." the Sun's Princess spoke.

Before them stood Juggernaut, repaired and repainted (in an ugly green color, but whatever), with glass in his windows, and two headlamps secured to the sides of his windshield's frame. His engine seemed brand new (as the side of it's hood's door was still missing - so were his cab doors. He looked fine, otherwise - more than fine, actually.

He now had a face.

In the place of the bent and broken grids of his radiator cover was a rectangle, gray face, very wrinkled, with an incredibly big and neatly combed, white Walrus mustache, and, sitting on the bridge of a celestial nose were two glass tubes with dots on their visible end, the other hidden between the folds of the face's wrinkles.

"Wow... Those are some major glasses." the god exclaimed. Juggernaut just mumbled something incoherent, the dots on his glasses lowering onto the bottom of the gray circle of the tube's end, flattening out into lines, as the aged machine dozed off.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise." Celestia smiled.

"How so?" Luna asked.

"Well, for starters..." the elder sister began "He seems to be in a much better condition now. I'm not sure how, but..." she shook her head.

"The point is, he's alive now, so I guess he'll be MORE than willing to stay like that." Alexei added.

Just then, the machine emitted a loud snore that shook the entire shed...

"Point taken." Luna uttered.

They towed him out in front of the shed, and examined him in the early afternoon sunlight.

"Seems fine to me." the controller declared "But it's best we call Spike. I'll go get him. You girls should get something to eat. I heard the canteen is really good here."

"Alright." the Princess of the Day smiled "Of we go then!"

"To conquer the land of gourmet delight!" Luna declared in an adventurous manner. Her sister just chuckled, and their friend merely smiled. They left, leaving the dozing rail lorry out in the fresh air and sunlight.

Not a clever move, in retrospect.

A good twenty minutes later, all three of them returned, now joined by the dragonling.

"...So ya really made come to life? Wow!" Spike was excited "That's awesome! Can't wait to meet it, errr, him!"

"Well, it wasn't exactly us..." Alexei muttered, scratching his head "Anyways, we might do a few modifications on it, as it still seems weak... Well, then again, a rail lorry wasn't built to be strong or anything."

They stopped beside the two princesses, who kept staring forward.

"Hey, were back and..." he stopped, when he noticed the look in their eyes.

"What's up?"

"Uhhh... Sir?" Spike muttered "Where's Juggernaut?"

The god stopped dead in his tracks, and looked forward.

The machination was nowhere to be seen.

"Hmmmm... Seems like he left..." the dragon stated.

"He couldn't have left!" Celestia snapped "He didn't had anyone to drive him!"

The others simple cast her ah incredulous, bemused look.

"Oh... Right..." she muttered, remembering the fact the engines could indeed, somehow, drive themselves. But she also remembered something else.

"But he was sleeping!"

"A sleepwalker perhaps?" Luna shrugged.

"More like sleeproller!" the god grunted. Spike's eyes suddenly widened.

"I think I know where he is." he muttered.

The others turned towards him.

"You do?" Luna asked. The dragon nodded.

"You do know that the tracks to Appleloosa are under repair?" he asked.

"Yes." Alexei replied "The old rails are far to weak to hold the weight of the new engines and rolling stock that use it."

"Yeah. If anything - anyone - would want to get through there, they would need a very light vehic--..." Celestia stopped. They exchanged looks. Then turned to the dragon.

"Spike." Luna said sternly "I think all of us knows WHO has taken Juggernaut."

"Yes?" he asked back.

"Alert the mares who take responsibility, and tell them to meet us TEN MINUTES from NOW at Platform 1." Alexei continuied with a solemn tone.

"Go now." Celestia added darkly, and the baby dragon scurried away.

The Night Prior

"So, cousin Braeburn is hurt?" Apple Bloom asked. The Apples were having dinner.

"Hurt 'is leg." Applejack replied "Docter says he'll be fine in a few weeks' time, but he'll have to stay in bed until that."

There was a pause in the conversation.

"So?"

"So what?"

"Are we gunna visit 'im?"

Applejack sighed. She had already told this to her brother and Granny Smith.

"Ah don' think so, sugahcube. They're doin' track repair over there, so no heavy-weight engines can go through there. Matter o' fact, there aren't any trains going there 'til next week's end."

"Awww..." the youngest Apple slumped back into her chair. Suddenly, her eyes lit up.

"But what about Diesel? Or the Iron Twins?" she asked "Ah'm sure Twilight... Or Dr. Whooves would..."

"No can't do." Applejack cut her off "I checked with Twilight yesterday, to see what jobs we'll be getting tomorrow. We both asked the Doctor 'bout Appleloosa, but he said that none of the shunters will be available. not even Steamie!"

Again, Apple Bloom seemed bereft. Then, her eyes lit up again.

"But what about that... Thingamajig that the Princesses and Mr. Alexei were putting together?"

"It crashed on today's test run." her older sister replied, making her slump back again. But while the others ate, a determined look came over the young filly's face.

Present time

"Well, thank y'all fer comin' to visit me! It's mighty kind from ya, Apple Bloom." Braeburn smiled at his little cousin "An' I'm very pleased to meet yer friends, too!" he added, looking at the other two fillies.

"Don' mention it, cuz!" the young Apple replied, casting a glance at her friends, chatting with other members of the family - We're glad we could make it!

""Cuz"?" the young stallion chortled "Where ever did ya learn such hipster words?"

"Oh! - Apple Bloom blushed - Well, Spamcan's always usin' it to describe his brother, and...

"Now hold on a tree-shaking second!" Braeburn sat up, looking at her with bewilderment "WHO uses it?"

The filly blinked.

"Ah, yeah! Ya nevah met Spamcan before!" she exclaimed, tapping her hoof to her forehead. Hearing the familiar name, the other two fillies ran up to them as well. The other family members became interested, too.

"Who's this "Spam Can" thug?" one of them, a deep brown colored stallion with a horseshoe mustache and sideburns asked "He oughta not lay a hoof on my niece, or else...!"

"Settle down, Pop!" her wife, a youthful, peach colored mare called out to him, her Feathered hair mane flowing freely, before turning to the surprised fillies "Don't ya worry, yer uncle Apple Brandy may seem like a bear, but his growl is bigger than his bite." and she affectionately rubbed her nuzzle to her husband's cheek, making the latter growl with content.
Braeburn laughed.

"Well, Firewater, you sure know how ta introduce yerselves..." he chuckled, before turning back to his cousin "So, who's Spamcan?"

The fillies smiled.

"He's Applejack's engine, of course!"

THAT made the Apple's look up in surprise.

"Her WHAT?" they asked. Apple Bloom was about to reply, but her friends interrupted her.

"Spamcan's a diesel locomotive! " Scootaloo spoke up.

"He's very strong... And grimy..." Sweetie Belle continued.

"And gruff..." the little pegasus went on "He lives in the train yard close to Ponyville!"

"He delivers goods and heavy-weight stuff all around Equestria!" the unicorn filly went on "Well, at least, around Canterlot..."

That was when they noticed the surprised looks on the others.

"What I MEANT to say was..." Apple Bloom said firmly, shooting a frown at her fellow Crusaders "That Spamcan, or D199, is a diesel engine who lives at Ponyville Marshallin' Yard. And Applejack sometimes drives him, usually on Sundays, when we take a special load of apples to Canterlot."

"So... He's a freight engine." Braeburn was slowly putting the pieces together "Oh! Cousin Applejack has joined that work-an'-study program fer young mares an' stallions, right?"

"Yeah! So did Rarity, and the rest of her friends!" Sweetie Belle added "They all work with one engine selected to be their mentor!

"An' Applejack works with this 'Spamcan' bloke, eh?" Apple Brandy asked "Wha's he like?"

"Hmmm..." Apple Bloom pondered "Grumpy. Very grouchy at times, but hard-workin', an' once ya git to know 'im, he's a nice lad."

""Lad"? You speakin' Eaglish now?" Firewater laughed.

"That's how most of the diesels speak!" Sweetie Belle retorted.

"I still don't know HOW you three could get such a handy thang like that "Juggernaut" or wha'i'sname..." Braeburn added, checking the bandages on his hind leg.

"Aaaah..." the young Apple muttered...

Earlier that day...

"...Is THAT it?"

"Eeyup, this is it!"

"...It's rather a "he" than an "it"..."

The three fillies stared at the sleeping Juggernaut.

"He'll do." Apple Bloom smirked.

Present moment

"...Since our sisters work fer the railway, they lent him to us..." Apple Bloom forced on a smile.

Her relates glanced out through the window, where a few local workcolts were washing down the dusty Juggernaut, one of them also cleaning his biker goggles.

"Well, we an' the boys looked at 'im." Apple Brandy muttered "We'll git 'im some proper doors, meters fer his dashboard, 'cause he has none, and replace the reverser lever with something more... Convenient..."

"That sounds great!" Apple Bloom smiled.

"It sure does!" said a familiar, stern voice.

The fillies eyes went wide, and their faces grew pale. Firewater let out a silent gasp, and her husband took of his old-fashioned motorist helmet...

Slowly, the little ponies turned towards the entrance.

There stood Applejack, looking very cross, her eyes on Apple Bloom. Next to her was a less certain-looking Spike, and behind them: Princess Celestia and Luna, both looking quite irritated. They didn't had their regalia, but their "working attire" instead, now with their peaked railmare caps as well. Between them was the thin form of Alexei, his arms crossed in front of his chest, a glare sitting deep in his eyes.

"Wandering off without warning anybody, stealing NOT only an authorized railway vehicle, but the personal project of the railway's leaderboard itself, putting both your lives and Juggernaut's in danger, traveling down on unsafe tracks, interrupting important line maintenance operations, and lying to your own relatives." the ire god listed "Kid. You're in a HEAP of trouble."

The filly squirmed.

"So are you." Applejack added, looking at Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo.

"SWEETIE BELLE!" the little filly literally jumped (along with some of the others), when Rarity popped up beside the farmer mare. Sweetie Belle squirmed as well.

Scootaloo waited.

No Rainbow.

She slumped down to the ground, her hair covering her eyes.

Celestia sighed.

"Since no damage was done to anything, including your lives, we let you slip this time. BUT!" she went on "You must write a detailed report on your journey, from the yard, to here. Four pages long. We'll collect them from Miss Cheerilee next Monday.

"Your sister should help." Luna added "It's their responsibility as well."

"FOUR PAGES?" Sweetie exclaimed.

"Not enough?" Alexei growled, silencing her. Scootaloo kept staring at the ground.

"You have our full respect, Mr. Apple Brandy, for looking after our work." Luna continued, looking at the stallion "Thus, an ample amount of bits has been added to your and your employees' accounts - or wallets."

"I... I..." the stallion was lost for words, but his wife knew better.

"We're very grateful, yer majesties. It's an honor." she bowed.

"Right. Now then..." the Princesses returned their glances to the fillies "What do you have to say for yourselves? And your sisters?" Luna asked.

"I'm... Sorry for leaving without permission, and stealing Juggernaut..." Sweetie Belle muttered.

"And Ah'm sorry fer lying to you guys..." Apple Bloom mumbled to her family, before turning back to the Princesses and the controller "We didn't meant ta interrupt the railwork, honestly!"

"Yeah, ya BETTER NOT...!" Applejack snapped, before continuing with a more subtle tone "Just what where ya thinking, stealin' the Princesses and Mr. Alexei like that?"

"Well, at least they gave Juggernaut a nice, long test run..." the deity pondered.

"They remind me of mahself, like one of mah "stunts", when I was in their age..." Apple Brandy smirked, before he got swatted on the back of his head by Firewater.

"Sweetie Belle, don't you EVER do that again!" Rarity scoffed her sister "I was sick with worry! We all were!"

"I'm so sorry, sis!" the filly replied with a shaky voice, tearing up. Her big sister quickly hugged her close, burying her head in her coat, as she wept. Scootaloo sat alone.

"Well, Scootaloo?" Celestia asked in a demanding manner "What do you have to say for yourself?"

The filly suddenly jumped to a stand, and jerked her head up, throwing her mane out of her view, revealing her tearful eyes, locked in a furious glare directed straight at the three deities.

"I HAVE NO SISTER!" she yelled.

Everybody fell silent.

Both princesses had taken a step back when the little pegasus yelled at them, and after seeing the look in her eyes, they couldn't help but to feel an inexplicable guilt. Alexei, on the other hand, stared back into her eyes, and understood everything - a sorrow expression spreading over his face.

Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom stared at her with fear - they've never seen their friend so angry before, not to mention so sad as well.

Scootaloo was sniffing and wheezing, fighting the urge to cry, her gaze still locked at the deities, staring at them with a blaming look.

The rest of the ponies were bewildered by the filly's outburst.

"D-Don't worry, Scootaloo..." Spike muttered, surprising everyone, as he walked over to her, placing a clawed hand on the filly's shaking back, making her ease her muscles, and sit back down once again "I'm sure Twilight will help..."

"OK..." she whispered, still sniffling.

As Apple Brandy and Firewater joined the dragon in comforting Scootaloo as parent-like as they could, the three immortals walked outside, leaving friends and family on their own.

"Well, you finally caught me, bachgen..." Juggernaut smirked, quite awake now. He then noticed the deities' expressions "What's the matter?"

"Long story." Alexei replied, before turning to Celestia "Where does Apple Brandy and Firewater live?"

- In Hoofington, a couple dozen miles from Ponyville. They have a brewery there, although they themselves rarely drink." the princess replied "I've been to their wine festivals before - drunkest nights of my life -, but they themselves have to be the most sober - if randy - I know in this part of Equestria. No foals so far..." she added.

"Hmmm... - the god pondered - Perhaps... Nah!" he waved his hand dismissively "I wouldn't dare to separate three good friends like this."

"Yeah, you gotta have them "Cutie Mark Crusaders"." Juggernaut added with a smile "Perhaps once when their crusades are over?"

"When they find their talent?" Luna asked, and smiled "Yes, they'll need to find a better way to occupy themselves." she seemed deep in thought, remembering.

"But there's a more important question at our hooves, er, hands..." her sister spoke up.

"Yes?" her companions asked.

Celestia sighed, and cast a worried glance at the sky, towards Ponyville's direction.

"What's the matter with Rainbow Dash?"