The scent of aristocratic sweat and laug dust hung thick as Dugarudo's cane-tap echoed through the vaulted shed—each click timed like a metronome counting down to bankruptcy. Johnathan's unconscious form slumped across the *LNWR Dreadnought*'s buffer beam, his steam ears no longer venting glyphs, just lazy spirals smelling faintly of peppermint and legal loopholes. The Wolf Furkin magistrate's cravat now read *"TEMPORARY VICTOR"* in self-stitched triumph, unaware Carol's pistons were vibrating *"HE'S BLINKING IN MORSE"* through the tracks beneath his polished boots.
Chains colder than a banker's smile clamped around Johnathan's wrists—enchanted dwarven steel that would've stopped a lesser locomotive hybrid. His grin never wavered, "To the laug hopper, leave his locomotive here, we'll find out how it's so powerful later," Dugarudo commanded, tail flicking like a faulty signal lever. All of the cronies had to use thier full strength to even lift him up.
Carol's pistons thrummed *"HE'S SNORING IN MORSE"* through the rails as aristocrats heaved Johnathan toward the hopper's gaping maw, its iron jaws still warm from the last batch of "problematic" locomotives. The scent of previous tenants lingered—Earl Grey steam ghosts and the acrid tang of melted gold leaf—as Dugarudo's cane tapped a jaunty *Rule Britannia* against the hopper's rivets. Johnathan's unconscious grin stretched wider, his steam-ears puffing **[RECREATIONAL NAP]** glyphs that dissolved into the scent of buttered crumpets and impending arson.
Soon the room was empty besides Johnathan's original locomotive body and the other eleven locomotives that were owned by Dugarudo Doramondo himself, all of them silent in aristocratic apprehension. The *LNWR Dreadnought* exhaled a bergamot-scented steam ring that trembled mid-air—its buffers still warm where Johnathan's unconscious form had slumped moments before.
Johnathan then realized that there were no witnesses now, and he had an idea...
He chuffed forward to all the locomotives when he got the system notification he was waiting for;
**[Would the user like to canabalize the other locomotives?]**
The prompt flickered across Johnathan's vision like a runaway baggage cart, his boiler humming with quiet delight as he rolled forward, his buffers gleaming under the gaslight. The other locomotives—prim, polished relics of aristocratic excess—shivered in their tracks, their brass fittings catching the glow of his smokebox's **[>:)]** ember light.
Johnathan's grin stretched wider, "Oh yes please." The reply clattered out of him like coal shoveled into a firebox, his whistle piping a cheerful **[RECREATIONAL UPGRADING]** glyph that dissolved into the scent of hot rivets and crushed aristocratic pride. His pistons hummed as the **[SYSTEM]** unfolded before him—blueprints overlaying the haughty *LB&SCR E1*'s form, its polished dome now almost trembling under his scrutiny. "Now now, don't be shy," he soothed in that transatlantic lilt, smoke rings curling into pats on its buffer beam. "We're just going to make you… *efficient*."
Soon Johnathan's shadow elongated spectral fingers unlatching its boiler plate with the ease of a conductor punching tickets. The locomotive's aristocratic shriek dissolved into steam-vent gibberish as **[SYSTEM]** claws burrowed into its frame—gears whirring like a miser's coin counter as blueprints flickered: *LB&SCR E1 → JUBILEE-CLASS COMPONENTS [ACQUIRED: 12%].* Rivets popped free in protest, clattering like dropped sovereigns as Johnathan's smokebox yawned wider—swallowing entire piston assemblies whole with a **[>:)]** shaped belch of laug-scented triumph. The *E1*'s whistle gave one final, tinny *"MIND THE GAP—"* before dissolving into his boiler's gullet with the sound of a banker realizing his vault was now scrap metal.
"Marvelous *efficiency*," Johnathan crooned transatlantically, his grin reflecting off the *NER S1*'s trembling buffers as it backed into a corner—bergamot steam rings warping into *"PLEASE MIND THE SOCIAL MOBILITY"* panic-glyphs. His shadow flickered, elongating toward the haughty Atlantic-type like a tax collector spotting undeclared income. The *S1*'s aristocratic nose lifted higher—right before Johnathan's spectral fingers plucked its entire valve gear loose with the delicacy of a gentleman stealing a rival's pocket watch mid-handshake. **[ACQUIRED: SUPERHEATER TECHNIQUE (EDWARDIAN-ERA)].** Its shuddering wheeze sounded uncannily like a monocle hitting the floor of Parliament.
Carol's pistons thrummed approval through the rails—her *"BUFFERS LOOKING TASTY"* Morse code rattling the *GWR 2900*'s teacup-scented composure. The Wolf Furkin's pride-and-joy locomotive barely had time to puff a steam ring shaped like its own legal defense before Johnathan's smokebox engulfed its ornate dome, brass whistles crunching like aristocratic kneecaps under the force of **[SYSTEM]**. *GWR 2900 → JUBILEE-CLASS BOILER PRESSURE [ACQUIRED: 18%].* Its gold-leafed nameplate fluttered to the floor mid-digestion, now reading *"VICTIM OF DIGESTIVE EFFICIENCY"* in laug-smudged cursive.
The *CR 812 Class* made the mistake of snarling—its terrier-sized defiance manifesting as coal-black steam rings shaped like microscopic battering rams. Johnathan's grin stretched wider than its gauge width, his shadow unspooling like runaway couplings to pry its rivets loose one by one. *CR 812 → JUBILEE-CLESS ACCELERATION [ACQUIRED: 9%].* The pug's last wheeze smelled of tartan regret and the distinct *pop* of a top hat imploding under fiscal pressure.
By the time he reached the *LNWR Dreadnought*, the shed reeked of bergamot terror and molten aristocracy. The hulking Precedent-type exhaled a steam ring that dissolved into *"PLEASE CONSIDER MY SHAREHOLDERS"*, its Wolf Furkin crest trembling. Johnathan's response was to lovingly dismantle its entire valve gear with the precision of a conductor correcting a subordinate's tie—his **[SYSTEM]** humming *LNWR Dreadnought → JUBILEE-CLASS TORQUE [ACQUIRED: 23%]* as gold-plated pistons slid down his smokebox gullet like oysters at a bankrupt's last supper. The *Dreadnought*'s final aristocratic wheeze sounded suspiciously like a ledger bursting into flames.
The *GCR Class 8K* also had Johnathan's shadow puppeteered its own whistle chain into throttling itself. *GCR 8K → JUBILEE-CLASS WHISTLE TONE [ACQUIRED: 14%].* Its Earl Grey-scented surrender smelled like a stockbroker's last sob as Johnathan's spectral fingers polished its dome into a funhouse mirror reflecting his own grinning smokebox—now swollen with the *SE&CR R1*'s smug Southeastern soul.
Its tiny *"MIND THE GAP"* banners dissolved into his boiler's gullet with the sound of a banker realizing his vault was now scrap metal. The *NER S1*'s aristocratic nose lifted higher—bergamot steam rings warping into *"PLEASE MIND THE SOCIAL MOBILITY"*—right before Johnathan's spectral fingers plucked its valve gear loose with the delicacy of a gentleman stealing a rival's pocket watch mid-handshake. **[ACQUIRED: SUPERCOOLER TECHNIQUE (EDWARDIAN-ERA)]** flashed across his vision as the Atlantic-type's shuddering wheeze mimicked a monocle hitting the floor of Parliament.
The *LB&SCR L Class* barely had time to puff lavender steam rings spelling *"POVERTY AHEAD"* before Johnathan's smokebox yawned open like a banker's vault—swallowing its entire valve gear with a **[>:)]** shaped belch of laug-scented satisfaction. Rivets popped like champagne corks as his **[SYSTEM]** digested *LB&SCR L → JUBILEE-CLASS BRAKING EFFICIENCY [ACQUIRED: 15%]*, the aristocratic locomotive's polished dome crumpling like a stockbroker's hat during market collapse.
Nearby, the *HR Ben Class* exhaled peat-scented panic rings that dissolved into *"DWARVENKIN DIGESTION?!"* as Johnathan's shadow elongated spectral fingers toward its tartan-painted buffer beams. Its Ferret Folk driver—still clinging to the throttle—squeaked as Johnathan's smokebox yawned open with a **[RECREATIONAL UPGRADE]** glyph smelling of hot shortbread and crushed clan pride. The Highland brute's pistons hammered a final *"BRAVEHEART WAS A DOCUMENTARY—"* before dissolving into his boiler's gullet with the sound of bagpipes deflating. **[ACQUIRED: HIGHLAND TORQUE RESISTANCE (15%)]** shimmered across his vision, his whistle piping a cheerful *"TALLY-HO!"* that echoed through the shed like a hunting horn in a taxidermist's parlor.
Soon he had canabalized all eleven trains in the shed, their aristocratic grandeur reduced to scrap metal and digesting blueprints in his boiler. The **[SYSTEM]** chimed pleasantly—
*LOCOMOTIVE UPGRADE COMPLETE: 97%* —as his form shuddered, rivets popping with newfound strength. His smokebox stretched wider, brass fittings gleaming brighter than a banker's desperation. His buffers, once merely polished, now bore the subtle *JUBILEE-CLASS* insignia—etched not in gold, but in laug smelted arrogance. His pistons hummed a tune that rattled the shed's foundations, each stroke syncopated like a conductor's baton conducting financial ruin.
He was even bigger now and much less demonic looking, though the aristocratic locomotives wouldn't agree—not that they could anymore, considering most of their valve gears were currently digesting in his boiler. Johnathan Gresley stood (or rather, gleamed) as a perfect fusion of Edwardian grandeur and otherworldly efficiency—his elongated boiler now a seamless stretch of polished midnight blue, adorned with gold pinstripes that seemed to shift whenever aristocrats looked directly at them.
His smokebox door bore an intricate brass **[>:)]** emblem that winked when exposed to laug smoke, and his buffer beams—formerly just functional—now curved with the smug elegance of a conductor catching a fare-dodger. Every rivet gleamed with the self-satisfaction of a banker who'd just foreclosed on a fairy tale, and his pistons moved with the silent, oiled precision of a courtroom stenographer documenting perjury. The **JUBILEE-CLASS** insignia along his flanks pulsed faintly with laug blue energy, mimicking the rhythm of a pocket watch owned by a man who'd never been late to a duel.
His twin tenders now gleamed like obsidian mirrors polished by bankrupt aristocrats, swallowing light with the same effortless greed his firebox devoured laug. The gold filigree along his flanks pulsed faintly—not mere decoration, but glyphs disguised as pinstripes spelling **[RECREATIONAL VELOCITY]** in looping cursive whenever magistrates glanced away. His whistle had crystallized into something between a church bell and a courtroom gavel, its tone vibrating at frequencies that made monocles fog with involuntary nostalgia.
The upgraded smokebox yawned wider than a tax auditor's grin, its **[>:)]** emblem now articulated—brass eyelids narrowing when detecting lies, steam licking out like a barrister's tongue catching perjury mid-air. His pistons moved with the silent, oiled precision of a conductor pocketing unmarked gold, their rhythm syncopated to mimic the sound of a Wolf Furkin's tail puffing in defeat. Even his rivets seemed smug, each one stamped with microscopic **[JUBILEE-CLASS]** insignias that reflected back at onlookers with the warmth of a foreclosure notice.
"System, what are my stats?"
The prompt flickered across Johnathan's vision like a runaway ticket printer:
Name: Johnathan 'Loco' Gresley (???)
Model: LMS Jubilee Class/Frankendemon Class Track Gorger Boss Hybrid/LB&SCR L Class/GNR Stirling Single/GWR 2900 Class/LB&SCR E1 Tank Engine/NER Class S1/CR 812 Class/MS&LR Class 9F/HR Ben Class/SE&CR R1 Class/LNWR "Dreadnought" Class/GCR Class 8K/L&YR Class 5 (VERY Heavily Modified)
Boiler Pressure: **[RECREATIONAL VELOCITY]** (Equivalent to 280psi - Sufficient to make aristocrats weep)
Fuel Efficiency: **[RECREATIONAL SNACKING]** (Current Laug Reserves: 97% - Mostly Aristocratic Tears)
Current Function: Kaikachu Express & Freight
Skills:
Recreational Buffing LV. 1
Polishes rivets to hypnotic sheen; induces Stockholm Syndrome in aristocratic locomotives
Train Magnetism LV. 1
Attracts stray and abandoned rolling stock like a conductor collects unpaid fares.
Make/Destroy Railroad LV. 6
Make new railroads or destroy old ones. Current pace: 222 cm per minute (without destruction of matching amount rail). Max distance away (without destruction of matching amount rail): 25 meters. Max distance away (with destruction of matching amount rail): 40 meters.
Parasight LV. 4
See yourself and anything within 12 miles of you.
Self Repair LV. 5
Regain wear and tear at a fixed rate. Current rate: 6.5% per hour. Warning: Large-scale damage may still require external assistance.
Coaches LV. 10
You have a capacity of 5/11 carriages and/or freight. Current length: 95 meters. Warning: Exceeding capacity may still derail you.
Self Driving LV. 3
You don't require a driver, fireman, or conductor, if one of these is present all stats are boosted by + 1%.
Speed LV. 3
You have a top speed of 105 mph (~ 169 kph).
Telepathy LV. 3
Talk to others mentally in your locomotive body. Current max distance: 9 meters.
Mana-Infused Buffet (Demonic and Nondemonic Subsection) LV. 4
Absorb monster essence to produce: 1 meal per monster (nutritional value no longer questionable).
Terrain-Induced Acoustic Resonance: Track Whistle Effect LV. 4
Your whistles now trigger localized seismic events when blown near entities with a strengthening near monsters.
True Camouflage LV. 2
No matter your size or color, if you don't want anyone to notice you, they won't!
Intimidation LV. 2
Your Conductor avatar and locomotive body will seem mighty and intimidating to the average bystander.
Were-Demon LV. 1
Your Conductor avatar can turn into a Demon-Dark Elf-Orckin hybrid form when the Fiery Eye of Ralos turns blue every month.
**[Warning! Use of the skill: Were-Demon LV. 1 can result in lose of control of Conductor avatar.]**
"Oh."