Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

March 30 1960

Glory awoke to the noise of machines clattering and banging. Men all around him checked him over for faults.

"Hello, 818. Welcome to the land of the living. Once you have been cleared to be moved, you'll be brought in for final checks, then you'll be sent on your duties."

818 stared at the man; it looked like he was expecting something. A workman whispered to 818, "You're supposed to say, 'Yes, sir.'"

"Oh! Uhm, y-yes, sir!"

"There's a good engine." The man turned on his heels and walked away.

818 was moved shortly after, moving under his own power into the loco sheds. Spinning around on the turntable, 818 was shocked. There, in the berth next to his, was a very different-looking engine from those he had seen around the works. His main body was cylindrical, and he had weird rods connecting his wheels together. He looked at him in awe.

"Woah... what are you?"

The engine next to him huffed, "Lady above, are they really not telling you about who you're meant to replace?" The engine sighed. "I am Kenilworth Castle, a Castle Class steam locomotive."

818 scrunched his face up. "Steam? How does hot water power an engine?"

Kenilworth laughed. "Pressure, vacuums, and precision machining."

818 was still confused. "You're weird."

Kenilworth just smiled. "Well, one does tend to lose all regard for social norms when faced with their own mortality."

818 was about to question what the old engine meant, but his crew had arrived. He just looked at the castle beside him.

"W-well, in any event, uhm, good luck."

Kenilworth smiled. "You too, lad..."

---

818 had never seen so many humans in one place; it was nerve-wracking for the poor warship.

"Heya! You're 818, right?"

He looked up. There was another engine, this one looking just like him, paint and all.

"I'm 817 Foxhound, but you can just call me Fox." She smiled. "Don't look so nervous, kid! It's just a naming ceremony—yours, to be exact!" She beamed at him.

"O-oh? Do you know what my name will be?"

Fox whispered, "I do, but I'm not supposed to tell..."

"Oh! Oh! Please, Fox! Tell me!"

She giggled. "Okay, okay, calm down... they are going to call you... Glory."

---

It had been a week since Glory got his name, and he was over the moon. He couldn't stop saying it to himself.

He was scheduled to pull local passenger services to the towns around Swindon. Glory was happy to stay so close to home. Kenilworth and Fox had been getting into arguments left and right. He had hoped for a quiet night, but he could hear them shouting from the yard. He sighed as he entered.

"You lousy excuse for a rectangle! Listen here; I was in the high courts, brushed buffers with some of the most important steam locomotives of all time: City of Truro, King Edward the First and Second, and I—"

"You wretched kettle! Literally everything you just said does not matter in the slightest! The courts, the famous engines—who cares? The courts have been dismantled; most, if not all, of the old kettles have been withdrawn and are rotting at Barry's Island. Meanwhile, we revolutionary engines are picking up the slack faster than your kind ever could!"

"Yes, yes, yes, you're revolutionary! You can start with the flick of a switch, reach speed quicker—congratulations. But let me ask you but one thing: for how long will you be cutting edge, the best of the best? Because look out the window, Foxhound. While you go about your day-to-day, the men in that locomotive works don't stop. They will keep making advancements and progress until you, too, are obsolete, and you will be in the same position I am..."

"Enough!" Glory shouted, exhausted. "Can we please give it a rest? I'm beyond tired. I need to sleep, and I can't do that if you two are going at each other like stray cats. So can we please just pack it in for the night?"

The poor diesel spun around on the turntable and took his place in the berth between the two. There was a long silence before he sighed.

"What is it, Ken...?"

The castle was taken aback slightly. "Well, um, I heard that you pulled your first service today... How did it go?"

Glory smiled. "I enjoyed it... although I heard some complaints about how hard I was braking." He blushed.

Ken laughed. "It's alright, my boy. We all aren't perfect, especially on our first time out. If you would like my advice, there are some words I could pass along to the next generation, as it were." He paused; Glory made a small noise of affirmation.

"Well, when I was brand new, one of my brothers, Dunraven, saw I was having similar 'issues' pulling my trains, and this is what he said:

'Passengers are the lifeblood of any railway. They are what puts coal in our tenders and water in our boilers. Their opinion of us must be absolute, leaving no room for doubt in our abilities. If they can build doubts in us, they will look elsewhere for their needs, and we will be out of trains to pull.'

Now, when you approach a station, start slowing two signal blocks away—not heavily, but just enough to help you glide into the platform elegantly and properly."

Kenilworth smiled at Glory. "Try it next time, and I can promise better results."

---

Glory was excited as he picked up his passengers at Swindon. Today was the day he tried Kenilworth's advice. He was almost giddy as they departed.

He began counting signals as he went along. Some were easier than others, but he found himself not needing to brake as hard. He smiled; he couldn't wait to tell Kenilworth when he got back to the sheds.

He completed his runs for the day. It was dark by the time he returned to the sheds, and he was so tired he didn't even notice Fox eyeing him.

"What is it, sister?"

"Oh, um, nothing. I just figured with... you know... what I'm trying to say is, if you need help the next few days, I'm here for you. We need to stick together no matter what that old kettle said."

Glory huffed. "Oh, will you give it a rest? Ken has been nothing but nice to me, and you still pick on—Hey, wait a tic! Where's Ken?"

Fox looked at him, trembling. "D-did he not tell you? T-they... oh, lady above, they... they cut him up today."

Glory's face dropped, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. "D-don't even joke l-like that, Fox..."

Fox looked at her brother sympathetically. "There was something he wanted me to tell you..."

"He was proud of you in the little time he had with you. You showed him that the future was bright and that they gave you that name because you are destined for a glorious purpose..."

Glory stared at her, tears about to spill from his eyes. "W-why didn't he tell me?" The poor engine sounded heartbroken.

Fox hesitated on one buffer. She detested that old iron, from his pompous attitude to his fancy vocabulary, but his words still stuck with her. Would she truly end up like him in the end?

She took a breath. "He didn't want to worry you or distract you from your work... I'm sorry, Glory. I... I wish he had told you."

Glory couldn't hold his tears back any longer. He was crushed. The warship sobbed at the loss of his friend.

---

Three months had elapsed since Kenilworth had passed. Glory still hadn't fully recovered; he was depressed. He slunk around the yard, and his attention to his work was slipping.

His controller had finally had enough; he sold Glory to a scrap yard seeking an engine. In the dead of night, his crew came for him.

"Mnnn, driver? S'at you?"

They ignored the warship as they started his engine quickly and set off. Glory had some issue waking up, but when they were on the mainline, he started to notice.

"H-hey... where are we going?"

But still, his crew said nothing.

The sun started to rise as they reached their destination. A large fence with a signal box above the main gate greeted him. A nearby speaker crackled to life. "State your business, 'er."

Glory's driver hopped down and shouted up to the tower above. "We are delivering the locomotive you ordered!"

The gate opened, and a Class 08 came out to take him inside. Glory gulped. He looked behind him; his crew was leaving. He was on his own. He was shunted into a siding by large piles of cut-up engines, and his anxiety grew.

After what felt like an eternity, a man walked up to him.

"Howdy! Names Preston Thomas Boomer," he said, his voice hoarse and his American accent a tad overdone. "But you can just call me P.T. So, you're our new engine." He nodded his head with approval. "Yup, I got some ideas for you..."
----------------------------------

Ten years later,

Diesel Ten woke, trying to shake the memory of when he first arrived, but it clung to his mind. His eyes traveled the old, decrepit shed. He groaned, remembering his old name; it wasn't pleasant. Dredging up old memories, but from time to time, he caught himself wondering how Fox was, but it wasn't often. He heard his class was being withdrawn; he hoped he had gotten preserved, but... he knew it was slim.

He rolled out of his shed, his new attachment getting stuck on the door frame. He sighed; the claw had been one of P.T.'s more out-there upgrades. He had a hard time controlling it. He chuckled as he remembered when it was first installed; he knocked over a truck full of scrap. It took them hours to clean it up.

He stopped at the fuel pump; a workman ran up to him. "Eyy, Tenny, they need ya in the cuttin' shed. They got a warship that needs sinkin'." He looked at the man curiously. "Did they give you a number?" He felt a pang of anxiety crash through his radiator as the words left his mouth. "Nah, sorry boss man, but if you don't double-time it, I'll be my ass to pay."

Diesel Ten took his time as he trundled to the cutters' shed. He could see the B cab of another warship; their numbers had been removed. He pulled alongside, and his jaw almost hit the rails.

It was Fox. He stared at her; she had been crying. She finally met his gaze; he could tell she recognized him, but she couldn't figure it out.

"F-Fox... i-it's me, G-Glory..."

Her eyes lit up with recognition. "So, this is where you've been all this time. Oh, how I've missed you, brother..."

They were interrupted. P.T., the owner of the scrap yard, and several men with torches approached the pair of siblings. P.T. smiled. "Get to work, Tenny."

He froze. "S-sir, please, sh-she's my sister. Surely, you could—"

The owner stomped over to him. "Listen, you miserable machine, you are going to take this hunk of scrap on wheels, or so help me, you will be taken apart alongside it."

Fox whispered, "Just do it... be quick, brother. What the humans did to us after you left... i-i... please, brother."

Diesel Ten looked at her; sadness grew in his engine.

"Fox... i-i don't think I can lose you."

His eyes darted between Fox and the expecting humans; pressure mounted on him; he couldn't move.

The owner was furious. "CUT UP THIS PIECE OF JUNK OR YOU'LL BE TAKING A DIP IN THE SLAG PITS!"

Diesel Ten jumped back at his shouting; he looked to Fox; she smiled at him. "It's OK, Glory, do what you must... I will always cherish you, no matter what."

He raised his claw, pointing it at her midsection. "May the Lady guide your path, sister," and he plunged his claw into her.

An hour had passed; Fox was no more. She had tried to put on a brave face, but she started wailing in pain soon after he had started; so had her screams; they were sickening.

"Well done, Tenny," P.T. walked up to him.

Before anyone could react, Ten picked up P.T. with his claw; the "teeth" threatening to pierce his skin. "How dare you. She was my sister, my closest sibling, and you made me kill her... and now I'll kill you."

P.T.'s face turned from panic to desperation; he fought to get out of the claw, but the grip was too tight.

Diesel Ten clamped his claw shut, and with a yelp, P.T. went limp. The others started to scatter, trying to find another exit, but Ten gave chase; he threw the men around into the walls or simply crushed them with his claw; he stalked the owner last; he was hyperventilating, clearly giving his position away; he grabbed him as stared the man down.

"We are alive, whether you like it or not. We can experience love and sadness and hate... what you have done, what you let others do to those who just wish to rest, is just disgusting."

He threw the man across the shed; he slammed into the welding equipment; the tanks slamming to the floor and igniting. The shed was rocked with an explosion; Ten was knocked on his side; what was left of the shed started to catch fire.

A bright light enveloped Ten; he was back on his wheels; he looked down; a woman stood in front of him; he knew who she was immediately.

"You could have saved her," he spat.

The woman didn't look amused. "That would have exposed me and caused more harm for all machines everywhere."

Ten scoffed. "I've seen your 'guardians' coming and taking old steamers in the night; your just biased against us because the humans killed your precious steamies and replaced them with us; that doesn't mean we don't deserve the same fate... the human won't stop; it will be a perpetual cycle."

Lady looked at him lovingly. "That's where you are wrong, Glory. I love all those who worship me equally... I admit my guardians can be biased, but I am not."

"That's a load of shit, and you know it," he said. "I prayed to you when I first arrived, every night, that Fox would be OK, that she would be safe; hell, I would have taken her being on static display if it meant she would be OK, but no, you, in your infinite wisdom and knowledge, delivered her to me so that I could kill her."

Tears fell from his eyes again.

"Do you know what that's like, hearing your own sister, someone that you would do anything for, scream and cry in pain, and you can't stop it?"

Lady looked down. "I do..."

Ten scowled. "Don't lie to me; you just let these humans continue on their genocidal ways and kill thousands of your worshipers, and you do nothing."

To think I was dumb enough to pray to you," he looked away, "leave me; I never want to see you again; do you understand me? Even when it is my time, I'd rather haunt the rails for eternity than be taken by you..."

Without another word, she turned and walked away, leaving Ten. When he opened his eyes, he was outside the scrap yard; he could see the smoke in the distance; he sighed... now what...

Chapter Text

EPILOGUE July 1972

Ten was lost; luckily, he found an old engine shed to hide in, but his fuel was low, and he had no one to refuel him; this time, he just closed his eyes, hoping for rest.

"Glory....." he jumped, looking around, "h-hello, who's there?" He felt the shed drop in temperature; it was freezing; a jet-black apparition appeared in front of him.

"F-Fox?"

Sadly, not my dear friend," the darkness enveloped him. "From what I've seen, we have a common... enemy: 'the false god'..."

Ten looked around; the voice seemed to be everywhere at once.

"L-Lady, you mean... I wouldn't say she's my enemy; I just... don't agree with how she does things..."

But what if you could change that, make everything right, take control, save anyone you wanted... and what if I had the power to change that...

What are you proposing?" Ten said hesitantly; he didn't know what he was getting himself into, but if it let him avenge his sister, then he would.

"You'll join me, and together we can topple the false God and avenge your sister's needless death; so, what do you say..."

"Yes."