FIVE DAYS BEFORE THE ARRIVAL

8:30 AM

The diesel-hydraulic clattered into the station, bringing with himself a short goods train. The cold was nipping that morning, but it also looked like the start of bright day. The air felt unusually stagnant, however. There was no wind.

In the summer, that's usually the precursor of a storm. A thunderstorm, to be precise.

The B.R. maroon colored engine gazed around, taking in the sight of the small station. He should have stopped by the freight depot's platform, but he was switched to Passenger Platform 1 by accident. He didn't mind, as it offered him chance to rest. His destination was still far away. He could've enjoyed the journey - the countryside was quite beautiful, and the many stations he'd passed have a surprising variety in their design.

However, a thought prevented him from loosing focus.

Even though he managed to stop at the station for a more prolonged amount of time than what he hoped for, having arrived quite early, he still needed more time. He had to talk to the engines of the yard, and this was his only chance.

On the line besides him, next to Platform 2, stood three, larger diesels, quietly rumbling in the morning sunlight. Well, two of them were - the dark olive green Class 40 at the back, with a light gray roof and a red buffer plate, number D782, and the apple green Class 31 with silvery buffers, a red buffer plate, a cream-colored roof and cab, with a cream stripe along his side, and a yellow warning panel serving as his face, with the number D701 displayed on his side. The one in the middle, a maroon-brown Class 52 with white cabs, number D1043.

He nearly had a heart attack upon noticing the old engine, until he read the brass nameplate on his side:

"Western Pathfinder".

His noisy sigh of relief caught the attention of the other three.

"Oi! Who are you?" the Class 31 called out to him "Wha' are you doin', sneakin' aroun' like tha'?!"

"Sneaking?" Clayton muttered "I've been standing here for the last five minutes!"

"An' wha' are ya standin' dere fo'?" the Class 40 grumbled from the back.

"I've been switched to main platform by accident." Clayton replied. He was already getting tired of the two bickering engines "What are YOU three doing here?"

"What's yer business with us, huh, guv'?" the Class 40 snapped.

"It's none of YOUR bloody business why we're here!" the Class 31 added "This is OUR yard, and..."

"Rhodders! Brock! Behave yourselves!" the Western diesel spoke up between them. He had a gentle, ever-so-slightly posh voice.

He then turned his attention to the Super-Clayton.

"Apologies for the behavior of my colleagues, my dear engine." he said softly "My name is Matthias, and these two Rhodders and Brock. We WERE located at this yard up until now, but we're moving to our new workplace at the Trottingham-Gaslight branchline."

"Ah." Clayton replied "My name's Clayton, and I'm heading there as well. I just stopped here to pick up some goods."

"I see." Matthias replied, giving him a once-over "You're a Class 17, I presume?"

"A prototype, but yes, I am a similar design."

"Hmmm. You seem rather nervous there. Is anything the matter?"

Clayton realized that his chance had come.

"Well, yes, actually..." he replied "You see, I've just completed my trial runs, and I was supposed to deliver these goods to the new branchline. Unfortunately, I hadn't refueled since yesterday, and I'm literally at the bottom of the barrel here."

"Well, that sucks..." Rhodders mused "Can't ya refill here?"

"I'm afraid I don't have the time." Clayton muttered, continuing his fib "I still have to shunt this train next to the goods platform, and I'm afraid I'll ran out of fuel soon after that..."

"An" if ya refuel, you'll be late..." Brock pondered "An' you've just done yer trials."

"Aye."

"Well, tell ya wha'..." said Rhodders after a brief pause "Well take your train along with us. It's really not your fault that you've ran out of fuel."

"Ah, thanks, guys!" Clayton sighed "You're lifesavers!"

"Don't sweat it..." Matthias chuckled "It's not the Modernization Era anymore. None of our necks are on the line."

"Still, first impressions are quite important." Rhodders mused, before adding "I'm sorry we were rude to you. Just jumpy, 's all."

"I could tell..." Clayton chortled, as he began to reverse.

"Forge' dat." Brock called out to him, before yelling over into the sidings "OI! STEAMIE! SLOW, MIXED GOODS AT PLATFORM 1! MOVE 'EM TO TH' FREIGHT LINE, PRONTO!"

"On it, guys!" said chirpy voice.

Clayton rolled forward, across the points, and into the yards, towards the fuel depot. Along the way, he was turned around.

"Good thinking, mate." His driver said to him, as he operated the turntable "You were actually running low on fuel. Nothing serious, though."

"I was?" the mix-traffic engine exclaimed "Oh well."

He watched as a small, green saddle tank shunted his train behind the freight depot, whilst Rhodders began to reverse onto the same line.

"Now what?" his driver asked.

Clayton looked around, and spotted the engine shed.

"I won't be needed until noon." he replied "Can you drive me over to the sheds. I must tell the engines about the new trial runs."

"And I'll inform the station master about it as well." his driver replied "If that engine is as dangerous as they said he is, it's best if we left management know about it."

"Well, that's just marvelous!" Stuck-Up grumbled. For once, the snobbish engine wasn't alone with his displeasure.

"Why did they need those three?" Bowler moaned "It's only a branchline, and they already had all the engines of Trottingham Junction there, not to mention the Hungarian engines at the other side.

"Hungerian." Twilight corrected him.

"Whatever." Stuck-Up groaned "They still leaves with more work! It's the height of the season, the railway is employing bloody tempts everywhere, and NOW, they decide that this is the best time to recruit our only back-ups!"

"Oh, shove a sock in it, Stuck-Up!" Pip snapped at him "They were already located there, along with the others."

"I also heard that Rats will be relocated there from Huffington." Emma added.

"Tha' blu'y line 's c'nsumin' eng'nes by th' dozens!" Spamcan blurted out.

"Well, it is as long as our portion of the main line." Emma pondered "Anyways, there's still plenty of us around."

"What we need are shunters." CoBo muttered "With Diesel reserved for local goods trains, 'Arry and Bert away at the Cavalry Ironworks six days a week, all we really have is Steamie, and that's it."

"Ya coul' always fetch yer own trains..." Applejack pointed out.

"Do you have any idea how bloody finicky that would be?!" Bowler yelled "We have eight-wheel bogies, for crying out loud! No, shunting for us is definitely out of the question!"

"We can arrange them every now and then..." the Metrovick diesel added "But we can't do shunting work regularly, we're just too long. Mix-traffic design be damned."

"Speaking of mix-traffic, anyone knows what happened to Derek?" Rainbow Dash asked, making the chatting engines fell silent.

"I think, I can help you with that..."

They looked up, then proceed to stare blankly at the newcomer.

Clayton glanced up and down across the engine berths. So, this was it. The infamous Other Railway.

He had heard the lot about these engines... One such thing was that...

"Oh my GOD! DEREK?!"

...They're not really smart...

"No, no, no..." he replied "You're mixing us up. I'm Clayton."

"Clayton?" replied the chorus, and began to eye him up.

Finally, Stuck-Up harrumphed, pouting.

"Well, you're definitely a Clayton design." he mused "Please, do tell us, where's our... Colleague, then?"

"Derek's getting overhauled back in Manehattan Central." the diesel-hydraulic replied "He'll be back in a week."

"Great. Another engine goes missing!" Bowler mumbled "Are you his replacement until then?"

"I'm afraid not." Clayton sighed, then turned serious "However, I did came here to warn you."

"To warn us?" everyone paid attention to him after that.

"Yes." the mix-traffic went on "Your are still having engines on trial in your yard, aren't you?"

"Indeed." Diesel replied, speaking up for the first time that day "Why?"

"I have to warn you..." the diesel-hydraulic began "The next batch is..."

He was interrupted by the sound of a horn.

The engines and mares looked up as the sound of diesel motors filled the yard. Four engines entered the yard, and began approaching the sheds.

Stuck-Up and Bowler observed two of them in particular.

"A Class 55 and a Class 23..." the uppity passenger engine muttered, sounding curious. The corporate blue and Brunswick green Deltics purred towards the turntable with ease, and stopped just short of it's well.

"Well, that's a pleasant surprise, I suppose..." the express engine added "At least we'll have some help with theuuooaaAAAH WHAT THE HELL?!"

Alongside the two Deltics came, growling loudly, and dispelling a considerable amount of clag, a Class 37 locomotive. Electric blue, with cream cabs, a yellow warning panel covering half his face, ending right under his nose, two boxy headlamps on either sides of his face, a dark gray roof and round, silvery buffers. He smiled at the gathered engines, wryly.

"Th--... Wha--.. Y-Young Fuck-Up?!" the express engine blurted out, then found himself at the receiving end of the mares' disapproving looks.

The Class 37 winced upon hearing the unflattering nickname. Years ago, he was roped into helping the Other Railway overcome yet another "financial difficulty", by covering for an incapacitated Old Stuck-Up. Having heard of the disreputable Barrow Regional Transit (as the Other Railway was officially known), he took his position for granted, and spent his time delinquently damaging the already nonexistent "honor" of the railway. Eventually, the other big engines (suspicious of the young working class diesel to begin with) decided to brick him up in the shed for good measure. Long story short, their plan backfired, as usual, but at least they got Old Stuck-Up back (something they soon regretted).

"Young Fuck-up", as they had christened him, sulked away, back to his own line. He was employed by D.R.S. at the time, and had a stressing job routine, working near Sellafield, running the nuclear flask trains along with another member of his class (who just so happened to be possessed by the ghost of his former driver). Eventually, he broke ties with the company (caused an accident and slipped away when no-one was noticing), had a local engineering shop repaint him (accidentally giving him the wrong color scheme), and had himself given a fake pre-TOPS number, D7000. With this new getup, he escaped, only returning to the Other Railway once, when there was a demand for replacement engines, as nearly the entire fleet of the railway was summoned at London for a court case regarding their massive backlog of community service.

They haven't seen him since, and his reappearance didn't promise anything good.

"What are you doing here?!" Bowler yelped.

"I'm here on trial as well. My name's Growler, by the way." he replied.

There was a brief pause afterwards, as the resident engines got over the fact that an old nemesis (of sorts) has returned.

"Excuse us. It seems that you engines know each other already." the Class 55 spoke up, snootily, breaking the silence "My name is Legion."

"Great. Another Stuck-Up." Diesel groaned, disrupting the Deltic's speech. Legion harrumphed, and fell silent. The other engine spoke up instead.

"My name's Napier." he introduced himself "Pleased to meet you."

No-one paid attention to the Class 59 rolling up next to Growler. He glanced around as well, but saw that no-one even noticed him. He gave a defeated sigh, and turned his engine off, staring at the tracks in front of him.

As the engines began chatting with the visitors, Clayton pondered to himself.

"How come only they came? The other two should've came along with them."

He gazed out onto the main line.

"Where could those two be?"

Later on, Dr. Whooves showed up, along with Derpy.

The sky had turned dark with heavy clouds promising rain, perhaps, even a thunderstorm.

The Doctor/Station-, and Yardmaster surveyed the sheds.

"Good. Seeing that you're all here, I think I should make my announcements. As you may all know, the railway board has recently launched a number of live trials across the country, in order to test out recently acquired locomotives, rolling stock, and other equipment. A number of engines have already been tested, successfully, at our yard, and..."

"Yeah, yeah, we 'no' 'bou' i', Doc, we li'e 'e'e." Spamcan interrupted "Jus' ge' to th' poin'."

"...Right." replied the Doctor, clearing his throat "This case, however, is different. These recently arrived locomotives, namely, Class 59, number 59207, Class 55, number 55022, "Legion", Class 23, number D5910, and Class 37, number 37309, are the last ones to go on trial here. With them, the testing sessions will finish, and we can resume to our regular schedules."

A relieved groan wafted up from the majority of those present.

"Also, three of these engines will continue working here, in our yard, after the trial is done."

"WHAT?!" snapped Stuck-Up.

"Well, there's the answer to your prayers, Stuck-Up." Emma teased, and the others began chuckling as the express engine fumed.

"What'll happen to the fourth one?" Bowler asked.

"He'll be simply reassigned, and based in a different yard." explained the brown stallion "The Trottingham-Gaslight branchline still requires more engines..."

"What for?" Cromwell asked "They already have L.N.E.R. B12 and B17 in the face of 98462 and 87546, a Class 47, Brush, a Class 33, Burdock, an L.Y.R. Class 27-G.S.W.R. 403 Class in the form of Eagle, an L.N.E.R. D16, Phoenix, and... Who else? That Class 127 without a number."

"They also sent Kestrel there." Pip added "And I've heard that a former Hungarian State Railways engine has arrived as well."

"Really?" Diesel asked, somewhat curious "What sort?"

"A mix-traffic diesel-hydraulic." Emma answered "And there a number of shunters there already as well."

"Mu'e, Cross, Tedz..." Spamcan listed "An' jus' t'day, dey also 'ad Rho'e's, Matthias, 'n' Broc' sen' ove' der', permanently."

"So that means that they have, in total, four mainline diesels, two mainline steam engines, three mix-traffic diesels, two mix-traffic steamies, a diesel multiple-unit railcar, andthree shunters." Stuck-Up counted "That's a total of fifteen engines, on ONE branchline!"

"Yes, a branchline roughly the same length as our sector of the main line!" Emma snapped at him "Get over it, Stuck-Up!"

"HOWever...!" the Doctor continued, raising his voice.

The engines fell silent.

"However..." he began again "Two additional engines will be arriving to assist you. They've requested a reassignment, and curiously enough, both of the specifically asked to be based here, in the Ponyville Marshalling Yard. Now, I have been warned..." here, he glanced at Clayton "That these two engines may come with ill intentions towards you."

The engines exchanged looks. Dark clouds covered the sky.

"While keeping that in mind, we must, at least, offer them a chance to prove themselves."

Thunder rolled in from the distance.

Exchanging looks, the engines turned their gaze back towards the Doctor. Finally, Spamcan asked the question:

"'ho ar' dey, doc?"

A shrill horn pierced through the air, two-tone and off key, and the sound of a diesel motor, not too different from Spamcan's, could be heard.

As lightning flashed, it shrouded the headlights that appeared from around the corner, making them seem to come out from the darkness. As the engine drew nearer, more and more things became clearer.

It was a mainline diesel. Painted poison green, a bastardized, darker version of B.R. Green, with a cream stripe running across his sides at footplate level. Silvery gray roof, with silvery buffers, and silvery stainless steel wheel tyres. It was a Class 45, a precursor to Spamcan's class, the Class 46 "Peaks" - though, both classes, AND the Class 44s had the same nickname, as all of them were christened after mountains.

A yellow warning panel reached up to about half of his face, to the middle of his nose.

With his mouth forming a sly, irksome smirk, fenced by a Van Dyke stubble-beard and a stubble-stache, a toned-down version of the gruff goods engine's dirty stubble. Angular, thick eyebrows above his baggy-ish eyes, forming the same, familiar frown that those who knew of the dirty Class 46 could easily recognize.

Signalling their relation.

The engines stood, gobsmacked, as the newcomer rumbled into the yard, stopping just short of the turntable, on the siding that faced Spamcan.

The goods engine's own frown seemed to increase, his face contorted with an seething, glowering scowl, while his driver, standing just outside of his cab, narrowed her eyes, poking her hat up.

"G'mornin'." the Class 45 sneered.

"Sulzer." Spamcan growled, his voice lowering to meet and overstep his brother's already deep voice "Wha' ar' you doin' 'ere?!"

"Nice t' see ya 'gai', too, bro'he'." the green engine replied "I see ya still stic' t' yer ol' posse."

He snickered.

"Bes' t' kee' yer luv'd on's close, am I righ', fellas?"

The other engines reversed sightly, apart from Legion and Napier, who knew nothing of the siblings' rivalry, CoBo, who couldn't give two sharts about their rivalry, Diesel, who couldn't give two sharts about them in general, and just glared at him, along with Spamcan, who stood his ground, and Bowler, for some reason.

"Don't tell me that YOU'RE one of two volunteers." the Class 40 asked, astonished.

"Yes, I am." Sulzer hissed, scowling at Bowler "Whu's i' to ya, preppie?"

Bowler scowled back, and reversed into the shadows of his berth.

"Now why would YOU come 'ere?" asked Applejack "Are ya re'lly THAT petty that ya wouldn't leave yer brother 'lone?"

"Well, fo' YOU' inf'mation, horse, I've deci'e' t' chec' 'roun' dese par's. Have' bee' down th' line on thi' side, an' tha''ll neve' do."

"Whu's that s'pposed ta mean?!"

"Ah. Course ya would't kno'. Well, anyway, my drive' also wan'e' t' mee' sum' ol' rela'iv's as well."

"...Yer driver...?"

The cab door opened, as another bolt of lightning sliced across the darkening sky. A figure exited the cab, trotting alongside Sulzer, and stopping next to his buffers.

Applejack's contemptuous gaze slowly, but surely transformed into the infuriated, glowering scowl of her engine.

The others just stood, mouth agape. The engines could only stare, incredulously.

Beside the Class 45 stood an orange earth pony mare, with a blonde mane and tail, both tied in rather unruly ponytails, with what appeared to be fan belts tying them together around the middle. She wore a black Akubra with dirty white band on it, and her left (or, from her perspective, right) eye was cowered by a black eye patch, while her other eye was a deep purple.

She looked hauntingly similar to Applejack, with an identical stature, the same shade of her crest and tail, all the way down to the freckles on her cheeks. If it weren't for the eyes, one could think that it was the applefarmer wearing a costume. Her cutie marks were three green, unripened, sour apples, with leaves sticking out from the stems of two of them (one had two leaves, the other only had one, while the third had none).

The similarity was really uncanny, and unnerving to some degree as well - she almost seemed like some sort "evil twin" of their friend. So similar, yet, so different.

Her eyes, while purple, had the same shine, and same depth to them as the cowmare's, only... Darker, more meaningful in a way.

Her expression was much the same as Applejack's would be in a moment of conceitedness... Except that she sported a wicked grin along with it.

"Jacqueline." she said. Even her voice sounded much like AJ's, but more smooth, more... Slick.

"Blackelyn." Applejack replied shorty "So... Ye're Sulzer's driver."

"Why yes, dear cousin'." she replied "Thought we migh' visi' ou' dear relatives... Unless you'd want me to be thrown out again."

Her grin slowly turned into a scowl, matching Applejack's. It was truly uncanny. Sulzer watched with interest, as the two mares glared down at each other from across the turntable.

"Well... Anyways, welcome to the yard, Sulzer." Stuck-Up greeted him, finding his politeness in the awkward staredown.

"Nice to meet you lot again." the Class 45 replied, the smirk never leaving his face. He glanced around "Where's Derek?"

"He's away being overhauled." Bowler replied, halfheartedly "Why?"

"Oh, I do miss him." Sulzer replied, his smirk growing particularly dark.

"Yeah, I bet you do..." Diesel growled, eyeing the green engine with more than just contempt.

Sulzer used to be a regular visitor to the Other Railway in it's early, naively promising days. He regularly jumped in to fill the role of one of the big engines, or to help with the extra workload. He was known as Spamcan, only worse - with the same macho aggressiveness, slacking nature and fierce strength, he happened to be Karma Houdini on top of it all, avoiding the heat of his actions, and getting out of trouble, unnoticed. He regularly made fun of the then-incapacitated Brakefather, blackmailed many of the big engines, want ballistic-predatory on Pip and Emma, and made the life of the small ones a misery. This was before 'Arry and Bert, BoZo and Cromwell had arrived, but during the time CoBo was with the railway. The Class 28 was also a bit of a bully back then, trying to escape the revolution that ate it's own children: the Modernization Plan. But his actions only hardened the otherwise sensible and wimpy engines of the Other Railway, who now stood a chance against Sulzer's terror.

Except for Derek.

Derek was a regular victim of the big engine's rather obnoxious practical jokes, often finding himself overwhelmed. Diesel tried to come to his defense a few times, but alone, the Class 08 shunter could do little against the huge goods engine. So he gave up on it, and let Derek suffer.

The engines hated Sulzer. On top of being an even bigger arsehole than Spamcan, he was also unbearably suave and slick, often proving his worth despite his behavior, and always left the railway pleased with himself, never once sent away.

The rivalry of the two siblings was a curious one. No-one seemed to know where it stemmed from, though their controller, the then-mostly-sober-during-weekdays Sir Wyatt Fronts seemed to gaze at the two bickering engines, bemused, with a knowing look on his face. Besides Spamcan, CoBo also sparred with the Class 45, and seemed to come off more victorious from the battle of wits the two had. This left Sulzer furious, and the two engines haven't talked since. He avoided looking at him even today, his eyes averting when they came close to the visage of the Metrovick.

Dr. Whooves talked severely to the recent arrivals.

"Now, I know of your track record, D20." he said, sharply, momentarily surprising the engine "I will only allow you staying in this yard if you bring your best performance, and are on your best behavior."

"...But of course, sir." 'D20' replied, cautiously "I'll do my best."

"Good." the Doctor replied, easing up "Now then, about you..."

He turned towards the mare.

"You're Apple Blackelyn, correct?"

"Appleblack fo' short, sir." she replied, shooting a glance at her relative, and smirking as she fumed angrily upon hearing the nickname. Dr. Whooves, upon noticing this, turned serious once more.

"Now, my dear mare." he said "I'm not quite sure what to make of you."

"Ah'm jus' a simple mare, sir." Appleblack replied "Trained in a farmwork an' engine drivin'. A proud Apple..."

She stopped here, and shot a deathly glance at her sibling, who suddenly seemed to shrink, taken aback by the glare.

"...Or, at least, I was..."

"Well... Your track record seems almost spotless, aside from a few hiccups in your early days." the Doctor went on, checking her papers "Now, I don't know what skirmish you have with Apple Jacqueline here..."

"Nothin' ta worry abou', sir..." the mare replied, glancing at AJ again "I's jus' a bit of... Bad blood, so ta speak...." she smiled to herself, as Applejack once again seethed with fury.

"Well, for your sake, I hope this wouldn't come to hinder your, or others' performance." the Doctor replied coldly "Less you wish to be assigned with a different engine, if at all working on this railway."

Appleblack's eyes widened, and even Sulzer seemed to be taken aback.

"Ya... Ya wouldn't... Would ya?"

"It's within my power to do so." the stallion replied "But ultimately, it's up for you. You and Sulzer."

"...I understand, sir." the mare exhaled, sounding defeated. But as Dr. Whooves turned away to talk to Clayton, she shot another glower at her sibling, making Applejack feel uncomfortable once more.

"Well... This'll be interesting..." Bowler mused, watching the five engines depart from around the turntable. Napier and the Class 59 seemed to be keen to learn the yard layout, whilst Legion and Growler rolled of to the fuel depot. Sulzer just settled down in a siding, on the other side of the yard, and Appleblack seemed to check around him for any malfunctions.

"That's not the word I would've used." Trixie muttered.

"Well, that's that then." Dr. Whooves sighed, standing on the platform.

"But that engine may still be lurking around, sir..." Clayton protested. The two of them were at Platform 1, with the Brakefather easing in with a local stopping train onto the parallel track. The old, chocolate brown engine listened intently, quietly eavesdropping on the conversation.

"I wouldn't worry about it." the stallion replied "I wouldn't allow him to stay, anyway. His reputation is an absolute disaster, faked track records be damned. I had clearly told the railway board that I wouldn't allow him into this yard. If he does turn up, I'll have to - politely, of course - decline giving him entrance."

"I'm not sure that'll stop him, sir."

"Don't worry, Clayton." the Doctor reassured him "Even if he does manage to sneak in, he couldn't do much. And he'd be under constant supervision."

"...I hope you're right with your confidence, sir..." the diesel-hydraulic sighed, pulling out from the siding, and rumbling off, back towards Manehattan Central.

FOUR DAYS BEFORE THE ARRIVAL

6:00 PM

The following day, the engines sat around the turntable. The stormy weather from the day prior stayed, and only seemed to intensify.

The trials were being carried out.

Sulzer and Appleblack took the freightliner towards Hoofington, whilst Legion left with Old Stuck-Up's express, earlier in the morning. With Derek still away, the Brakefather was put in charge of his local, slow goods train, while his own stopping train was handed over to Growler. The Class 37 enjoyed the lecture the old mafioso gave him about the local stations. He also left him curious, mumbling something about "gathering the gang", and mentioning the name of an engine a couple of times. It was a name he didn't recognize, and kept thinking about it throughout the day.

Napier was put in charge of CoBo's specified freight train, while the Class 59, as of yet unnamed, was looking after Bowler's passenger train. The Cavalry Ironworks didn't require any extra help that day, so they sent 'Arry and Bert back, along with Rainbow Dash. The Flim-Flam Brothers stayed with their respective engines - Dodge and Splutter -, alongside Diesel 10. As all five engines were commissioned from the railway to assist, the agreements allowed to any number of the five could work. This kept a balance between the Ironworks' freedom of choice, and the railway's profit.

With both 'Arry, Bert back in the yard, and Diesel not requested by any local clients, the three Class 08 were told to shunt in the yard, and Steamie was rewarded with a special train that allowed him to travel up and down the countryside.

With their shunting done for the time being, the engines huddled around the turntable.

"You know, I really wouldn't mind having a transfer table." Cromwell pondered out loud, and Mr. Bottomsly had to agree - in is own way.

"That's because you're afraid of breaking down." Bowler smirked "Paranoid, even. I swear, you're worse than me."

The engines and mares had a light chuckle, but Twilight noticed that Applejack - and, along with her, Spamcan - seemed rather bemused. She turned towards her friend.

"So... What's up with... Blackelyn, I believe?" she chose her words carefully, remembering her friend's reaction from the other day.

"Appleblack." the cowmare muttered "She's a cousin of mine."

"Oh? You two look... Quite similar..." Rarity mused.

"Yeah. We used to pretend tha' we were each other when we were little..." a shadow of a smile passed through AJ's face, briefly.

"Hmmm... Appleblack... And Applejack..." Bowler muttered loudly "I think there was a joke here..."

"Bowler... Bowler, don't...!" Diesel warned him.

"...But I just couldn't drew it!" the green engine yelled, chuckling at his own joke. The others just groaned.

"What happened? Between you too, I mean?" he asked, after he managed to regain his composure.

"Bad blood." Applejack growled, reminiscing.

"Appleblack was once part of th' family. She was th' foal of my mother's sister, Apple March. We use' ta be best cousins, she an' I - kinda like how Apple Bloom and Babs are now. Bu' that all changed when we reached teenage. She began ta play rough. Tumble. Ah began ta enjoy her company less and less ev'ry time she visited. She knew o' this, bu' she decided ta have her way, anyway. More an' more often, we would git into trouble. One year, when adulthood was jus' an inch away, the Apple Family Reunion was being held at their orchard. The night before it, she dragged me into town. Ther' was a bar nearby, an' seein' tha' we would be celebratin' her coming of age, she decided ta hav' her firs' guzzle of som'thin' harder than Apple Family Cider. Ah, on th' other hoof, was so afraid that we'll git in trouble, that Ah left her there. We shared a room in their house, an' Ah woke up when she came home later that night. Ah asked her if she had done anything, bu' she didn't reply, an' Ah began ta worry fer the worst."

Applejack paused, cringing.

"Ah was wrong. Th' worst was yet ta come." she said, sounding bereft.

"Th' next day, as th' festivities were underway, Ah kept worrying about Appleblack. An' it seemed Ah wasn't th' only one. Durin' th' middle of the whole gig, a senior member of the family, Uncle Ruckus burst in. He had been drinkin' at th' local bar, an' was informed abou' Blackelyn's escapade, if tha's th' righ' word."

"I believe it is." Twilight replied "If you're being ironic."

"He had also heard some nasty gossip circulating among th' "regulars" of th' bar, regardin' wha' she had dun' there. It was horseapples, really, bu' ya couldn' convince Uncle Ruckus otherwise."

"Foo'ki' snitchin' barkeeps!" 'Arry cursed "Always stir'in' shi'!"

AJ nodded, agreeing, and went on.

"He threw a massive tantrum, callin' her all sortsa names Ah wouldn't even dare ta use on mah enemies... Though Ah'm sure Diesel here would."

"OI! ...Well, actually, that may be true. You'll have to tell me some of them, if you remember any."

"Right... So, Uncle Ruckus then turned towards me. He was already foul with Appleblack, due to th' way she had been carrying herself in recent years, bu' saw me as th' "nice gall" of th' two of us. So he asked me if Ah knew anythin', seein' tha' Ah had joined her in her trip to th' bar. Ah didn' know what ta say. Ah didn't want her to git into any MORE trouble. Bu', Uncle Ruckus was staring at me with blood-shot eyes, an' was growin' impatient. He musta had a few, when he checked out th' bar."

"Bloo'y hypocri'ical gi'!" Bert cursed.

"Finally, Ah said tha' Ah saw her goin' into th' bar, an' tha' she came home later in th' night, sober, as far as Ah could tell. Bu' the Uncle wasn't interested abou' tha'. He claimed tha' he KNEW tha' Blackelyn would bring shame to th' family, an' sleep with sum' stallion the first moment she coul'. When sum' of th' family went up against him, demanding him ta explain where he all heard this, he exploded, an' kept cursing her an' th' rest of us in turns. Then suddenly, he collapsed onto the ground."

"Ooooh, plot twist!"

"...Shut up, Cromwell!"

"We called an ambulance for him, bu before they took him away, he demanded tha'... We would remove Appleblack from th' family. He already disowned her in his mind, and, being th' senior, demanded that we do so as well. All th' while, he kept lookin' righ' AT me, feverishly. Ah couldn't take th' pressure, an' agreed with him. Th' others caved in, one by one..."

"You UTTER BITCH!"

"Wha--?!" AJ gasped, looking at the engines.

"How could you backstab your own cousin like that?" Bowler snapped "What? Just because she was growing a bit different!"

"Ah couldn't do anythin'!" Applejack exclaimed "Not with mah uncle..."

"Guys, she was cornered!" Pip cried out "Leave her alone!"

"Pueh. Of course. When it comes to intricacy, women can stick together, especially AGAINST one another!" Stuck-Up grumbled "I do find it rather hilarious, though, that your own element, honesty, made you betray your sister."

"Alaric..."

The others fell silent, as Spamcan spoke up for the first time.

"Shut the fuck up."

It wasn't so much the volume, or the clear English he spoke in that made them fell gravely silent. It was the tone.

Stuck-Up reversed slightly.

With a soft sigh, Applejack continued:

"Tha' was that, really. Th' Reunion was ruined, an' everypony went home. Appleblack's parents were cross with her, not because of th' stupid gossip tha' Uncle Ruckus believed, bu' they were cross with her, none th' less. Before we left, Ah tried ta talk with her, bu' she jus' gave me this... Look. Like th' one she gave me yesterday. Tha' deep, dark look. Back, before Uncle Ruckus' outburst, I saw her eyes. They had th' same shine as mine, an' from tha', Ah knew there was nothin' wrong with her. But afterwards, th' look in her eyes changed. Ah don' know if she had actually done anythin' in that bar, bu' on that day, Ah... Ah did took her innocence..."

She was close to sobbing. Thankfully, Diesel remained as soberingly harsh as ever.

"Once again, you're an utter bitch."

"Oh, shut yer trap, Diesel!" AJ snapped back at him, wiping her tears.

"What happened afterwards?" Twilight asked.

"She wasn't heavily reprimanded by her parents, bu' she wasn't allowed to go ta any reunions anymore. Uncle Ruckus made sure of that. However, after three years, she showed up again. This time, the reunion was held at Uncle Ruckus' farm and brewery."

"Ons' ag'in, hypocri'ical gi'." Bert grumbled.

"Shu' up, Bert!" snapped 'Arry "Oi wanna see 'ow dis ends!"

"It did not end well," the applefarmer sighed "It was evenin' when Ah saw her, lurkin' around behind th' great boilers of th' brewery. Ah called out ta her, an' she turned towards me. She had tha' same grin she wore when she had one of her mad ideas. More often than not, these revolved aroun' fire, explosives, an' th' like."

"She's a pyromaniac?"

"Sort of. She definitely had this... Affinity towards th' flame. You could say that th' two were alike. That night... Uncle Ruckus' orchard burned. Set ablaze usin' his own brews. He never lived down th' events, an', a couple of months later, he died. Appleblack's parents told us that she had ran away from home, bu' not before trashing th' local bar, an' beatin' th' bartender half ta death."

"And already, I'm starting to like her."

"Afterwards, she had gone missin', bu' not fer long. She popped up, here and there. I knew it was her, 'cause her fires followed her like a comet's tail..."

"How poetic."

"Shut up, Bowler."

"There was method to her madness, though." AJ went on "She targeted Apple family members, those in particular, who raised their hoof in acceptance to disowning her. She went in reverse order, goin' from th' last to th' first. Except she never came fer me..."

"Oh?"

"She kept me on edge fer about a year, bu' after so many nights spent awake, Ah simply forgot about her in the end. But not fer long... When we visited Appleloosa on th' next reunion, Ah was approached by a number of angry ponies, an' even some griffons, all demandin' retribution fer things Ah couldn't have ever imagined myself doin'. Even th' Royal Guards showed up."

"Wait for it..."

"As it turned out, Appleblack used our uncanny resemblance to peg me as th' culprit of her crimes."

"Then?"

"She slipped away again, after her cover was blown. All those she conned, tricked, or had caused damage to otherwise damaged had only one lead: she looked much like me. She showed up afterwards, here an' there. Always crossing my way. A few years ago, at the Rodeo? Ah couldn't get any first place medals 'cause of her. She showed me up an' curb-stomped me at ev'ry turn. Ah suppose that's better than having th' orchard burnt down. She was never caught, or suspected, fer that matter."

"How awful..." Emma muttered.

"She and Sulzer are match made in Hell." Cromwell groaned. The others had to agree.

The small train slinked into the yard's siding, empty. The green, Austerity tank engine at the front peered down into the yard, and chuckled to himself.

"Well, here we are!" he said cheerily.

"Quiet!" whispered a voice from the back of the train "I'm so close, I don't want to get caught here!"

"Alright, alright." Steamie snickered, rolling down towards the yard. With his train empty, he was granted permission by the signalmare and yard forecolt to shunt his own train into an empty siding.

No-one noticed, as Legion roared past with the express, that someone else had trundled along behind the small train, barely revving his engine, so as to avoid gaining attention.

"So, this is it, then, eh?" he asked now, reversing into a conveniently empty and shadowy goods shed near the siding "The rubes got themselves a rather nice place here."

"Ekhem!"

"Ah. Thank you, for bringing me here... Steamie."

"You're quite welcome!" the tank engine replied "I'm guessing you'll be on your way, dealing with your, eh... Dirty work..."

"Yesss, indeed." the diesel hissed, gazing at the sheds "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some... Business to attend to..."

And with that, he rumbled away, his suppressors and mufflers quieting down the distinctive roar of the diesel-hydraulic mechanism.

Beaming with pride, Steamie was uncoupled from his small special, he chuffed of, feeling really pleased with himself. Still, he was thirsty, and headed of to the water tower.

"Umm... Steamie..." Pinkie spoke up from the cab "Shouldn't we tell the others about him?"

"Nah." the Austerity replied "They'll meet him soon enough. Besides, I'm awfully thirsteh."

His driver/firemare fell silent for a moment.

"You sure this engine's alright, Steamie?" she asked "He seemed a bit... Sinister."

"Ah, you're just being judgmental." said the tank engine "He's fine. As long as he won't squeal..."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, nothing. Don't worry, Pinkie. It'll be fine."

The pink mare sighed, still perplexed. She couldn't see the wicked grin on Steamie's face, as he called back the scene...

The two of them met privately whilst Pinkie was off getting lunch. She wasn't informed of the restriction placed on this engine, but Steamie was. It was something he, quite purposefully, had neglected to tell her. When the diesel explained what he wanted to do, he complied, but made the big engine swear that he wouldn't tell of his... Contribution.

He still recalled the imposing locomotive's rather disturbed expression, as he laughed maniacally, and the memory made him feel like having a cackle again.

"Well, this isn't something you everyday..." Bowler chuckled "A double sibling rivalry."

"So glad that you could make light of such a sad tale." Rarity exclaimed "Have you no compassion?"

"'Fraid not, luv'. I'm Other Railway, after all." the green passenger diesel replied, eliciting a chuckle from the other engines. The mares just groaned. With Pip & Emma away for the night, doing their own trial run as an experimental overnight shuttle service, all four visitors found a place in the sheds. Sulzer, as it seemed, found a place somewhere else, and Appleblack had already retired to the workponies' sleeping quarters above the engine berths.

The engines chatted a bit, discussing their own trial runs, and famous rivalries they had ran into over the years.

A bit later, Sulzer showed up at the sheds once more. He was occupying a workshed that was required for coach maintenance, so the yard manager told him to go sleep in the sheds. With Derek still away being overhauled, and 'Arry & Bert called in by the Ironworks for a graveyard shift, there was plenty of space left. So he parked into the berth next to the shy Class 59, who had stopped in the one the closest to the main line.

Silence fell among them, initially, but soon enough, the engines resumed their chatting, completely ignoring the sulking Class 45... And his brother, for that matter.

"There was this engine who... Attempted to give me a run for my money." Cromwell explained "Rather competitive fellow. Loosely resembled some of the modern diesels, only worse. A steam engine boiler and smokebox on one end, a huge mash-wire cover at the other, from under which he peered out into the world, his long chassis suspended, dangling between two bogies."

"Who was this engine?" Twilight asked.

"The Reid-MacLeod prototype. A steam turbine engine, but because of his wired front "mask", we called him Fencer."

"I only had one rival to speak of." said Bowler "A chavvy Class 141 Pacer."

The engines familiar with Britain's infamous rail buses all groaned.

"I would've understood it if it was a Sprinter, but the wench kept irritating me, trying to get me into a race or something."

"Wench?" Stuck-Up spluttered "Do you mean...?!"

"Yeah. It was a girl." Bowler grumbled "Though, I could hardly call "her" that, considering her attitude."

"Watch it, Bowler!" Gilda snapped at him.

"This was while I was working at Yorkshire. Eventually, I had enough, and we agreed on a race. Both of us started from the opposite end of a branch line, with her pulling her shuttle service, and me pulling the parcel service. I quite enjoyed that job, actually..." the green diesel paused for a moment, reminiscing about the past "Anyways, I was already over half way, when I rounded the bend, and saw her. In her hurry to beat me, she went around a bend to fast, jumped off the inner curve, and blocked both lines. Leyla, I think she was called? Anyways, when management showed up, she tried to peg it all on me. She then proceeded to call the managers misogynists when they figured out, rather quickly, that she was pulling their legs."

"I know of mares like her." Twilight sighed "What a way to dismantle your credibility."

"Tell me about it." Bowler mused "I mean, I'm all out for groups fighting for equality, but not individuals who use what vague concepts they have of the group in hopes of gaining privileges or get out of their responsibility."

The others all muttered, agreeing. Even Sulzer and the Class 59 expressed their agreement.

"Aw. She must of liked you, Bowler." Legion snickered "Some engines have found strange ways to flirt."

"Yeuch! As if..." the snooty engine grunted.

"I had a rival once." CoBo muttered "A Class 73."

The others waited for a continuation.

"Aaand?" Rarity asked.

"Well, I had a rival..." the Metrovick replied, darkly "Once..."

The others shuddered at this, but Stuck-Up gave a hearty chuckle, and turned towards the goods engine.

"Oh, come on, we've seen you do worst, haven't we, Spamcan?"

The Class 46 just stayed silent, much like his brother."

"Hmph." the snobbish diesel turned his gaze towards the shunter "And speaking of rivalry, SOME of us could tell quite a tale, couldn't they, eh, Diesel?"

"Fuck off."

Again, Old Stuck-Up merely harrumphed, and began his own tale.

"Well, I also had a rival back in the day." he spoke softly, successfully catching the attention of the mares, particularly, his own driver.

"Did you?" Rarity asked, intrigued.

"Did I?" the big blue engine paused for a moment, staring into the distance. His face expressed discomfort, as he thought back. "I did, actually..."

"Aren't you supposed to refer to the deceased in past tense, Alaric?"

All of the engines froze, as they heard that voice. Even the nonchalant CoBo and Sulzer gazed up, shocked.

The sound of a diesel engine, a diesel-hydraulic, suppressed, but still roaring loudly, could be heard approaching them, along with a blinding set of headlights.

Once again, lightning flashed, and thunder rolled. The wind picked up, and the rain began to pound on the dusty ground.

The roar became louder and louder.

Stuck-Up stared ahead, gazing down at the siding across the turntable, as the two headlights blinded the others. His mouth was agape, while his impressive eyebrows were raised into arcs of disbelief, and fury.

For down, down the siding, rumbling and roaring loudly, came another diesel engine, a Class 52. Desert sand brown, with cream cab window frames, and a yellow warning panel serving as his face. A sharp, triangular nose above a thin, wide smile, with deep-seated eyes and long, penstroke eyebrows. As he rounded a small curve, his side revealed a bronze nameplate, the name "Western Star" clearly displayed on it. He stopped, just before the well, gazing across it tauntingly.

A stallion stumbled out of his cab, and left for the station building. This left the engine unfazed, as he kept staring directly at Old Stuck-Up.

Lightning flashed again, the wind blew, and the thunder and rain covered the eerie silence of the sheds.

Finally, the engine spoke up, smooth and slick.

"It's been some time, hasn't it, Alaric?" he said softly.

It took him a long time to reply, but when he did, he was devoid of his usual mannerism, along with nearly all emotions, except for a deep-seated anger, a hidden angst, and a pitch-black tint of hatred.

"Crusher... Welcome back."