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Stuck at the Steelworks


    After the moment of excitement had passed, things resumed as per usual. The twins sang their favourite tunes together, they joked back and forth and had some banter and deep discussion.


    “Oi, Donnie.”


    “Ya, Dooggie?”


 
    “What's sae special abit Manc lain anyway? Ah dunnae kinn much abit th' place other than we passed ben it oan th' way tae th' shaw lest year.”


    “Beats me, Dooggie. Ah ken they've got thes warld famoos fitba team thaur. Manc lain United ur somethin'. Ne'er pure understuid human things loch sports.”


    “Bah, me neither, Donnie. Jist some silly gam kickin' aroond a dumb baa. Cannae kin wa uir crew loves it sae much. Eh'd raither listen tae those radio tunes we're aye singin' noo.”


    “Aye, 'at bowie laddie is "da bomb" as th' wee lads say noo.”



    “Bah, aw thes new lingo, Ah cannae kin 'at either. Mince an' pish!"


    “Och aye, Ah hear ye, Dooggie.


    Soon, the twins began to sing again, this time a song by a different artist hailing from the mainland. Donald started.


    “I'll be th' roondaboot~ the words will make ye it 'n' oot~ I spend th' day yer way~ caa it morn drivin' thru th' soond an' in an' it th' strath~”



    Then Douglas took the next verse.


    “Th’graphite loons jink an' sing~ they make th' bairns pure ring~ I spend th' day yer way caa it morn drivin' thru th' soond an' in an' it th' strath~


And together:


    “In an' aroond th' loch~ moontains come it ay th' lift an' they stain there~ ain mile ower we'll be thaur an' we'll see ye~ ten true summers we'll be thaur an' laughin' tay~ twenty fower afair mah loove yoo'll see i'll be thaur wi' ye~”


    They sang that song till they felt out of puff.


    “Oi, Donnie?”



    “Aye, Dooggie?”


    “Dornt ye ever gie wabbit ay tryin' tae sin' songs in Scots? 'at a body was toogh e'en fur me!”


    “Nah, dooggie. Och aye, it's stoaner tae dae since they're aw in Sassenach tae start. but puttin' uir Scottish twist oan those songs makes em stain oot; it's whit draws attention tae uir singing; it's different!”


    “Ha, yoo've got me thaur, Donnie; fair enaw.”


    After that, the twins were feeling worn out again; it was nearing midnight. They were nearly there; the big steelworks building loomed up ahead. The twins passed through the big yard, and parked themselves onto a siding at the steelworks. Tired but triumphant, the twins whistled loudly to get the attention of anyone still up and working. One workman made his way outside, and Donald and Douglas explained the situation.


    “Dae ye min' if we bide haur th' nicht? We’ve got tae deliver th' second half ay uir delivery in th' wee hoors ay th' mornin’.”


    The manager agreed, and showed the twins to the spare shed. The twins slunk in and dozed off, with their drivers taking shelter indoors.


    The next thing they knew, they were awoken by a loud, shrill whistle, followed by a deeper one. The twins woke with a start.



    “Losh sakes!” spluttered Donald, eyes still closed. “Cannae gie a wink o sleep roond’ these parts, can ye?”



    “Bah, haudt yer wheesh, Donnie.” yawned Douglas. “What’s goin’ oan? We shoods gie back tae deliverin' those trucks.”

   
    “Morning, sleepyheads! And there’s no need for that now; I took care of it for you.” said a voice.




    The twins opened their eyes and gasped. There in front of them were two unusual looking engines; engines they’d seen before. One was a chocolate-coloured tank engine; a very large one too, bearing the number 20, an enormous boiler and tubes, and more wheels than they’d ever seen on a tank engine before. The other engine was large and red, with a water tank, boiler and tender and a small cowcatcher. A knuckle coupler rested below his link coupler.


    “Och, aye, Ah ken ye! Yoo're 'at oddbaa tankie we saw slippin' awa' frae th' railway shaw lest year!” spluttered Donald.


    The engine was taken aback slightly. “Well, well, well, you’ve got a sharp pair of eyes, don’t you?” he chuckled.


    “An' yoo’re 'at ginormoos Garratt frae th' sam shaw!” cooed Douglas in awe of its sheer size. “Whit waur yer names again? will, brady an' coal? fittin' names fur a water tenk, boiler an' tender.”


    “Close, but not quite!” spoke the water tank in a gruff, Australian accent. “I’m Will- that part you got right. The boiler is Grady, actually, and the tender’s name is actually spelled ‘C-O-L-E’- not ‘C-O-A-L.’ But you are right about his name being clever.”


    “Anyway,” the tank engine loudly interjected. “My name is Hurricane; you know, like a storm! I’m loud, big and strong, but not nearly as much as my friends here; we just call them Garratt collectively.”


    “Och, Ah min' 'at frae th' shaw…” yawned Douglas, still exhausted.


    “Hey, I wasn’t done.” snapped Hurricane. “As I was saying, don’t worry about your trucks. While you two were resting, I took care of your delivery myself. I’m always making deliveries to Bridlington anyway, so it was no sweat.”


    “Whew, that's a mercy oan uir wheels.” sighed a relieved Douglas.


    “Aye, it is.” agreed Donald. “Oi, Dooggie, 'at means we can tak' 'at wee holiday back tae Scootlund 'at Th' Fat Controller trysted us. Thenk ye, hurricane, but we main gang noo.”


   “Uh uh uh!” said Hurricane impatiently. “I helped you out, so I expect the same from you. Would you mind staying a while to help? We’re always getting big deliveries and needing extra help with them, so it’s only fair, I think.”


    The Garratt looked a bit puzzled. “But Hurricane…”


   Hurricane glared at the Garratt. “No buts, Garratt. We need all the help we can get around here. ALL. THE. HELP.”



    The twins were puzzled too, and slightly annoyed that they couldn’t get to Scotland right away, But they were kind souls too, and being mixed traffic engines, more than capable of helping.



    “Alrecht, we’ll dae it. but we can’t bide tay lang. mebbe a coople ay days won’t hurt.” sighed Donald.


    “Aye, we cannae turn doon fellaw industrial engines in need. jist don’t cross us; alrecht? We don’t tak' kindly tae rudeness ur trickery, an' we will pay ye it in spades if yoo do.” huffed Douglas. He was already feeling impatient and wanted to get things over with.


    “Yes, thank you,” said Hurricane, seemingly ignoring Douglas’ snide remarks. “You’ll mostly be shunting around trucks; we’ve got plenty of them going in and out of the building. There is one catch though; as part of our agreement, you can’t leave the grounds unless I allow it. Garratt and I are the ones who are the ones who make the deliveries to Bridlington and other places around here. You’ll be seeing a lot of us around though and helping us too, and working a few of our other friends, so behave yourselves.”


      Douglas scoffed again, but Donald spoke up. “Oi, Dooggie, tha’s enaw. We cannae turn em doon noo.” He turned to Hurricane. “Aye, that’s fair tae me. Ignair Dooggie- he’s jist eager tae gang oan holiday tae Scootlund; I’ll see tae it he keeps in line.”


    “Good, that’s settled then,” smirked Hurricane. “Now then, you’ll start off by heading inside the Steelworks here and taking those lines of trucks about. Frankie’s in there right now; she’ll give you the details. Right now, I’m off to Bridlngton again to pick up some more trucks.”


    Hurricane then galavanted off through the gates, which were locked tight after he left. The Garratt looked about, then whispered to the twins.

    “Between you and me, mates, I think something’s up with Hurricane. Yeah, he’s the closest thing I have to a best friend here, but he’s been behaving oddly I think. Some of the other engines might have noticed too. While you’re workin’ round ‘ere, I’d like to ask a favour of you two.”


    “Oh?” smirked Douglas. “An' whit micht 'at be?”


    “I need your help investigating the matter. First I need you to befriend some of the other engines here. Ask them about themselves; where they came from, what did they do before coming here, etc. Then, ask them about their contracts with Hurricane. See if anything seems fishy about them. To be honest, we’ve actually probably got a surplus of engines here now- a surplus that’s skyrocketed since 1992, and something about that doesn’t seem right. The workload’s not actually increasing as much as Hurricane says it has.”


   “Och aye, somethin' smells abit thes, an' it's nae th' slag. Which engines dae we need tae gab tae fur ye while ye gang abit yer half ay thes investigation?” queried Donald.


  This time, all three sections of the Garratt gave an answer.


    “First, there’s Frankie,” started Will. “She’s the sole diesel shunter around here. Easy to pick from the crowd.”


    “Then, you have Theo,” Grady called out. “Wee little lad. An experimental hybrid traction engine of sorts. Has large cogs and and open cab, speaks with a lisp. Thinks a bit differently than other engines. Timid little bloke.”


    “Lastly, you’ve got Sir Merlin!” yelled Cole from the back. “Might be tricky to spot; often shrouds himself in steam out of habit! Shy at first, but once you get him talking he just beams with pride! He’s the only passenger engine around ‘ere!”

 
    “We’ve got plenty of other engines ‘ere,” noted Will, “but they’ve been ‘ere for years and always keep to themselves; they’re kinda their own little group. Engines from other steelworks that escaped the cutters torch. Frankie, Theo and Merlin are the most recent engines that came here under Hurricanes, er, contracts I suppose you can call them. Fishy ones though. Even I came to stay here under one. Still strikes me as odd; so if you can get their second, third and fourth opinions, we might be able to do something about all this. It just strikes me as very strange that since a particular engine left, Hurricane has been recruiting extra help; we really don’t need it that much. He and I are plenty strong and those other little engines have been here for decades.


    “Losh sakes!” cried the twins. “Noo 'at is leery! An' it's Hurricane daein' thes recruitin'? Shoods thar be some written contract wi' th' engines' owners ur controllers?”


   “Exactly,” muttered Will. “Strange how there’s seemingly no involvement from the people. So, can ye do it? Help us get to the bottom of this and find out what’s really going on. The sooner we can get answers, the sooner I can get you two back on track to Scotland and Sodor.”

 
  “Deal.” said the twins firmly, as they made their way into the Steelworks. Time was of the essence.
Alright, I finally got around to writing the second part of DnD's JBS. In this part, Donald and Douglas make it to the Steelworks, meet Hurricane and the Garratt and are shoved into a shady, non-existent contract to help the Steelworks out for an unspecified amount of time. As soon as Hurricane leaves, Donald and Douglas learn from the Garratt that they're not the only ones forced into a similar deal, and they must find out what's really going on.

Part 3 will focus on the engines' investigation of Hurricane's plot, and coming up with a plan.

I'm honestly not sure how I'm going to work Beresford into the next part.

The Garratt was originally created by :iconpercyrosalina: and played a small role in my previous CRWS title "Gordon and the Great Race".
:icon736berkshire:
736berkshire Featured By Owner Apr 3, 2018
You've done it again, dude. :)
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