#tc lrau mackenzie ione

[thatcheeseycandle]

T2024: Day 3, Trust | TC-LRAU

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“I had to do it! HE WAS GONNA DIE, JOHN!”

“EVEN WITH THAT, YOU COULD’VE COST US THOUSANDS WITH THAT STUNT!”

It would be the middle of the night, even if it was normally the most peaceful period in a day, as you can see, it was not for the crew of three engineers that had stayed the night to keep an eye on the now emptied engine of Tornado.

“Oh and I’m the one pulling the stunts here? You bloody idiot, she could’ve died and that would cost us EVEN MORE with how much money the Trust owes the GWR! And if you aren’t taking that to mind, take this, how would we explain to them that we killed THE YOUNGEST STEAM ENGINE TO DATE?! HOW DO WE JONATHAN, IF IT HAPPENS, HOW DO WE?!”

“ENOUGH! Both of you, will you fucking STOP?!”

The storm was loud outside, like themselves, it was a cold evening as well. 

“Mackenzie, he started it!” Jonathan frustratingly gestures to the now empty vial, to which Mackenzie would eye, spotting the label on it that read-

“Gold dust.. Wait, wheres Tornado?”

Now this was when Johnathan cracked.

“She's in the back, I called the Director already to assist him. Because Trevor over here decided to REPLENISH his gold dust while it was reforming!”

“HE NEEDED HELP, FUCKING HELP!“

“WHAT DID I JUST SAY?!” Mackenzie cut off the both of them as they were riling up eachother again, pinching her nose before she took a glance at Tornado's engine past the two.

The day before, Trevor had seen signs of detachments in the soul and told the NRM about it, trying to get advice on how to handle it, but they simply said to leave it be.

To put it in the least graphical way, it was not pretty at all.

As Trevor recalls, his face started to soften like hard clay reverting back to lumpy soft clay it used to be before drying and it was bad. His face cracked and shards of it fell off like clay plates falling on the ground, shattering into smaller shards of “clay.”

It was horrifying. Imagine if that happened to you, slowly breaking into shards while you can't do anything about it, feeling yourself basically die slowly.

Thankfully, when the cracks started to get a few inches bigger and noticeable, Trevor had went back into the shed to check on inventory and there were vials of gold dust there. He had used one of those vials and gave it to Tornado into his firebox.

But when he saw Tornado in such a state, it was surreal.

Seeing him decay away like that, sent chills down his spine.

As Trevor sat down on a bench nearby, facing the side of Tornado's cab, Johnathan would go into said cab with a toolbox wrapped with his arm as he looked over the controls before looking deeper. Though shooting Trevor a furious gaze before he went into it.

Mackenzie on the other hand, would enter through a door, it led to this small hallway with three doors.

The first door that was at the end of the hall, it led to the outside to the yard. It had a window above the handle that let in some light, but currently it was the only light source, seeing as the light bulb above has been removed for repairs.

It added a mysterious touch, seeing how that beam of light shined through the window, looking better with that sun catcher Johnathan placed there. 

But that door to the left of her, it was more “mysterious”, and I say mysterious in quotation marks considering that is how visitors of the workshop described it. It wasn't mysterious to Mackenzie by all means, she has access to it after all.

Free to look through the files that lay inside that pieced together such a massive project.

But as she looked closer, she’d notice a crack between the door and wall. There she was.

As Mackenzie grabbed the handle, lightly pushing the door open for her to walk in, she'd scan the room beyond her.

It’s been nearly a month or two since the last time she, or anyone, entered this area, this archive. It was expected for dust to build up, considering how many files and documents the Trust had collected over the years, of course this “office�� would've turned into this.

Blue prints, newspapers, engine files, nameplates, a quarter of the entire history of the LNER was practically all in here, considering 70% of Tornado's class history was here. Or what felt like it.

What was more baffling is, where on God's name did they get all of it from? Surely there's sources or storage buildings Gresley, or his relatives, would've left behind. It was suspicious enough with the rumors of the Trust crafting up the files themselves, hence why Tornado was built a bit faulty.

Turning a corner, those thoughts would grow louder as she glanced at the rows of archive shelves, they had changed since the last time she was in here, most of them were filled to the brim with documents and actually were sorted out.

But then, the sound of heavy breathing starting to get louder and louder as she enters the main archive. And so we go back at the Tornado mention, seeing as Mackenzie spots Tornado sitting on the ground, leaning on a little cart filled with books.

To which her eyes would widen in shock.

———

“You don't need to remind me of that!”

“Well, what Duchess of Hamilton said would deny that, Nadia.”

“It's Nadi! You- ti shit bach sbeitlyd-”

“What you guys really need to do, is to chill the FUCK out!”

“Cyrus, it's already cold enough, what’re you expecting?!”

As you can see, the sun wouldn't push out the cold of the night as it rises in the sky. And, as expected, even Tornado's fully lit firebox couldn’t drown it out as well.

The week had just started and yet what has happened in the last one still is present, considering a volunteer and historian were newly recruited into the main operational crew.

A sudden thud would be heard, Nadi would be the first to see who or what caused that, to which they'd let out a huff of cold breath and steam.

“Hi Uncle Scot.”

They greet Sc-

“Holy shit- Scotsman, are you alright mate?”

They greet Scotsman as Cyrus helps him up from the floor, seemingly in his human form rather than the traditional monochrome form. To which Nadi silently cursed under their breath.

Well, another day another trip to the Museum. But then, they will admit, it’s been two or three months since the last one. Time flies fast they supposed.

But something they can fully admit is that they missed E-

“Nadi? Nadi c’mon, we have to get going.”

They'd snap out of their train of thought, as they look to where the voice comes from, seeing it would be the new historian, Trent. Though they would look in front of them, wincing at the sudden light that burst through the crack of the shed door, annoyed even more.

But as their eyes adjusted to the light outside, they’d see the back of a tender. Specifically a streamlined non-corridor one. Considering the context of this situation, they’d roll forward out of habit as they looked to their coupling.

“Tornado- Nadi!”

A familiar voice called out to Nadi, to which they’d apply their brakes with a slight screech, realising the tender was farther than they thought it would be. As they slid back their smoke deflectors a bit to see where this voice came from, they'd slide them back as fast as they could with a click.

“Nadi. You can slide those smoke deflectors back, but it doesn’t matter anyway,” it spoke another word, to which Nadi froze at, in pure embarrassment.

A tall figure would come into their view, the first thing they’d notice is that this person would have two plastic leg braces on the thighs and a cane, more specifically a multiple point cane from what they could guess, with the two handles.

As they were about to throw a retort at this person, they’d notice the black hair with blue frosted tips, the blue fading to a cyan-turquoise.

“Where’s your wheelchair, Trevor? And what’s with the new cane? Did the last one finally snap?”

They’d eye all these new orthotics and cane, a look of concern would form on their face. Yes they were used to seeing Trevor with a cane most of the time, sometimes coming here with a wheelchair, like the first time they met him, but surely there would’ve been a notice on all this new stuff.

Seeing Nadi’s reaction, Trevor chuckled softly after he adjusted his brace into place a bit. Holding firmly on his cane as he looked back up at Nadi.

“No, no. I just wanted to get myself a new cane since I’m gonna be volunteering on the NYMR, my main one won’t help much with the work I’ll do there,” he explains as he gestures to the end of the cane, from the top having a night sky filled with puppet looking suns and moons, to it fading to a light blue sky with clouds looking like they were carved wood.

The patterns would mesmerize Nadi for a minute, but then would snap out themselves as they took a glance at Trevor.

“Sorry. For the- Yeah, going too far out the shed.”

They would let off some steam as they backed into the shed, pulling back their smoke deflectors to look around the shed a bit, being aware of the environment, they supposed. They could hear Trevor reassure them it was alright to go a bit further out, considering it’s basically a habit to do so when they head off to the museum.

But as they looked to their left they’d realize, ah fuck, right, Scot. As they narrowed their eyes, they'd clear their throat.

“Hey, Uncle Scot.”

This would catch the attention of the Flying Scotsman, who'd return the look with an awkward one.

“Hello, Tornado.”

“Lady above- Your zoning out again.”

“What- I didn't even-”

“It's Nadi, incase you forgot, Flying Scotsman,” they bluntly shot that at him as he narrowed his eyes to the ground, to which Nadi let's out a tired sigh at before their face would start to evaporate into gold dust.

As the gold dust piled up a bit on the ground before swirling into a little tornado, evaporating into the air as it revealed a humanoid silhouette.

Though as Scotsman looked up, taking a glance at to where the glow of gold was coming from, he'd be met with an empty glare from, what he presumes to be, Nadi's human form.

It's been a while since he's seen their human form. His memories would be pried out from the back of his mind looking into the golden swirl of their eyes, memories of those who had ‘passed.’

Thinking about it, they were quite bittersweet. Yes he could see so much of Great Eastern in Nadi. His strong will, impressionable nature, and cleverness. But he could see another side to them, their courage and their open-minded nature, alongside a main trait of theirs, their assertiveness. That most likely being their Great Wes-

“So, are you just gonna stare at me for more than half the minute you spent doing so?”

He’d snap out of his near-spiral down his endless train of thoughts, looking down to the floor as soon as he processed Nadi’s words.

“I apologise,” he’d stand up as he glanced back down at Nadi, who would still be looking at him disapprovingly while their face was stoic, stepping back a bit to give Scotsman some room. Even with Scotsman rising above them by a few inches, Nadi still kept their guard up with that look.

Then they’d let out a tired sigh as they glanced back at their engine.

“Let’s just, get to our engines before this gets awkward.”

“Agreed.”

As he felt his crew step into his cab, he could feel deep down that this would not end well.

As he walked over to his own engine,  gently touching the buffer beam, he’d catch a glimpse of Nadi taking off their shades, spotting a scar underneath their eye, the cracks fro-

He’d see a quick flash of gold dust before he opened his eyes, as he settled into his engine his pistons would hiss with steam as it flowed out, hearing the click of Nadi’s smoke deflectors from behind his tender.

———

There would be cracks on her face, thankfully starting to fade away as it decreased to only being most visible at her cheek.

“Torn- Nadi, Nadi?!”

Nadi would look up at Mackenzie, then immediately back down as her head was now encased her hands. She'd speed up a little before slowing down, seeing Nadi’s current state, taking in how sh- they would be feeling right now.

Seeing Nadi look so frail and tense, she'd kneel down to be near their level.

“Hey.. Nadi, you're here, I'm here,” she lowers her voice to a soft whisper, but loud enough for Nadi to hear, reaching out her hand to them a little. To which Nadi would grab, kneeling up a little, pulling Mackenzie into a hug as she felt tears stain her retro jacket.

She wouldn't flinch the slightest as she returned the hug with warmth, letting them sob into her shoulder as they got a bit louder.

Nadi tugged on her jacket a bit tighter as she started to form words in mumbles after saying somewhat-welsh gibberish.

“Do not let anyone see me- please— I just wanna be here, I felt so dead. Please, Ms Mac please—”

They mumble out between their sobs, each attempt at forming words just made more tears leak out as they clung on to Mackenzie for comfort.

They could feel the cracks start to get bigger and bigger

Ever since the accident, the sensation of cracking had haunted him. The initial injury had left him with a deep scar, both physically and mentally.

Now, in moments of stress or fatigue, he would feel the phantom cracks spreading across their skin. It was as if their body was betraying him, the old wound reopening and splintering further. He would look down at his hand, expecting to see his flesh splitting apart, but there was nothing there. The hallucinations were vivid, almost real, and he could hear the faint sound of cracking, like dry twigs snapping underfoot echo in his mind.

Each time, he had to remind himself that it was all in his mind, a cruel trick played by his trauma. But the fear lingered, making him question his own reality. No matter how much he tried, he was still pulled in between reality and the roaring storm that are the memories that came flooding in like a tsunami. It was agonising.

He could recall the minutes before, during, and after the Incident, their clouded thoughts as they flashed in and out of consciousness with a flash of golden light, his golden light.

Oh how he felt so idiotic for not noticing it sooner at the time, it was right there!

———

As he recalls it, it was when they reached 80 mph from what he heard from his crew during the run, they were ready to speed past through Huntingdon as their wheels ached while keeping strong, ignoring the pain with the confident flame inside their firebox. But even with their regulator feeling so free, steam whirling inside like a flock of birds gliding through the clouds.

The thing that made him the happiest was to hear that everyone he knew from Didcot, West Somerset, and the Museum were cheering him on watching the run. The flame inside his firebox roared with warmth as his thoughts went to Odis and Evelyn, they were watching him right now! Pulling a service on such a rapid speed!

Looking back on it, that moment was quite the thrilling one. All the struggles they faced up to that point all paid off right there. 

But that was until they blew their whistle after reaching 90 mph, that warm feeling inside of them turned to reality as it started to sting a little. He could see thin strings of steam flowing near his buffers as something inside them felt warmer and warmer.

And after that last blast of a whistle, something inside of him exploded.

His mouth started to leak with steam uncontrollably and his pistons started to crack as pieces fell off, hitting his siderods a bit as he could feel steam leak a bit into his smokebox. They were being halted by the same thing that gives them mobility.

But through the panic, the last hope they had as cracks started to sprout from his left cheek-

‘I promise, to make up for all of my mistakes, I’ll be there when something goes wrong. I’ll be on standby,’ he recalled him saying before the run. The last hope they had was on the Flying Scotsman coming to his aid, like he had promised.

And then came a sudden sprout of long cracks as he could feel his face chip off bit by bit, his vision flashing between a golden light and the blurred track that his then glowing golden eyes were shining on—

———

“Nadi, wake up. We’ve arrived!” Called Mackenzie cheerfully from their cab, snapping them out of nearly dozing off to sleep. Well, shit, there goes their free nap.

As they slid back their smoke deflectors, their eyes lit up at the wonderful view of the sun shining on the metal roof of the main exhibition building of Locomotion, the sky behind it being a nearly-white baby blue sky with bursts of orange from the south, fading out as time went on.

Though as Nadi fully slid back their smoke deflectors, they’d notice the green livery and golden outline of-

“Betton! Over here!”