Chapter Text
Slick’s plan was a guaranteed win-win. Why wouldn’t it be? She’d crashed heaps of trains before and gotten away with it, no one would ever suspect the oil truck now would they? All she needed to do now was to get the diesel on her side, and that couldn’t be too hard to do. Greaseball seemed to like her at least somewhat, and more importantly Greaseball didn’t like Rusty, which ruled out any possible ethical concerns.
Greaseball had never liked Rusty. Never liked Momma either. When she trash-talked steamers it gave Slick this wicked feeling of glee. She herself, no matter how hard she tried, struggled to talk badly of steamers with anyone who wasn’t the other freight. Hearing the diesel say it felt like it was being said on her behalf. Convincing the engine was the easy part in all of this.
“Ooh, that’s nasty,” Slick blinked at her, surely she wasn’t about to say it was a bad idea- “I like it.” Relief washed over the tanker as her smile grew wider still. It was all just- too perfect.
“I thought you would,”
Greaseball skated closer to her. She felt her heart rate increase. A hand reached out, gripping her shoulder tightly. The grip was hard, to the point it almost hurt. The diesel leaned in, her face next to Slick’s ear. “Just remember who’s side you are on.” And then she was gone.
I’m on mine.
Slick had never talked to the electric engine. In fact, she despised the very presence of the electric engine and their weird cultish components in her yard. She wanted nothing more than for them to leave and go back to whatever fancy place they’d all come from. Still, sacrifices had to be made for a little bit of fun. Why wouldn’t she optimise her choice of options? Sure, she wanted the validation of the diesels and didn’t really care for an electrics opinion, but she wanted this to happen. This wasn’t just another crash to her, a crash just for fun, maybe the occasional cash. No, this was personal. She was going to put that stupid steamer out of racing for good and show them no matter what the Starlight said, oil was still on top. Show them she was just as important, that she carried oil and she didn’t care what they thought of her.
Actually contacting Electra was the hard part, like hell she’d just casually walk around to the shed they were staying in and knock on the door, wait patiently for that creepy security truck to maybe open the door for her. Slick spent a good half hour trying to get onto their radio signal. Partly because it was hard to find, and partly because she was rubbish at navigating the radios, let alone her old crappy one.
She waited in the scrapyard for them, arms crossed. “Hey Slick, you brought me all this way.” The electric came into vision, accompanied by one of their components. Which one it was she didn’t know, Slick couldn’t tell any of them apart. She got the uniform thing, but at least give some colour to differentiate between, come on. She couldn’t help wondering if maybe they all got themselves mixed up sometimes, she wouldn’t put it past them. “Okay, what you got to say?”
Slick raised her head at the engine, smirk still imprinted across her face. She didn’t even care how their component was staring at her like he wanted her obliterated. She was too confident. “Couldn’t say it over the air. Wanted you to know I’m gonna wipe out Rusty.” She watched Electra’s expression fall into- confusion maybe? They looked her up and down, before scoffing.
“You?” they sounded skeptical, rude much? “An old oil tank?” Okay, first off, Slick was not old, as far as she knew she was younger than the electric anyway. Starlight, she wished their component wasn’t there so she could smack that judgemental look of their stupid face. But instead, the tanker kept her cool.
“No, that’s fine. No need to thank me.” Slick ran her fingers of the crisp notes in her pocket. After all, who would suspect the poor female freight, even if there was an oil spill.
Just ‘cause I smile all the time, don’t mean I’m not into crime.
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The new shed was warm like her old one, but she noticed how much smaller this yard was. Still, there were less freight staying with her. And, she’d gotten her own room, which she guessed was a plus. But that didn’t mean she had any plans on sticking around. Slick planned to leave as quickly as she could, preferably in the night when everyone else was asleep.
The two other freight were both boys, a few years older than her. They only seemed to talk to each other, clearly didn’t need a third freight when they already had each other. The trucks in her old yard were much older, all basically grown up, who thought she was great. These two seemed to get weirded out when they remembered she was there.
The other steamer wasn’t much company either. Sure, he did try talking to her, tried being nice, but Slick didn’t want him to be nice to her, she didn’t need his pity. Sometimes, she’d yell at him so hard he’d cling to his mothers side. She didn’t really mean what she said, but he served as a reminder that she was stuck.
Rusty was tall, but skinny, the same age as Slick. Much like his name sake, he had one of the worst cases of rusting she’d ever seen. Yes, all steamers generally did have rust of some kind, she’d seen it back at home, but Rusty’s trailed from his wheels to his engine, across his chassis. How he managed to get around despite it was a real wonder, not that she’d ever plan on asking it.
Slick wanted out. So, one late afternoon, a Wednesday maybe. She started packing what little belongings she had into a thin plastic bag, planning her escape. It would be easy, she thought. Her room was the second closest to the door, all she had to do was make sure she didn’t wake Momma and then she’d be gone. What she’d do once she was out of the shed, she didn’t know. Not that it mattered. Did she know which tracks lead to her old yard? No. Could she go fast without an engine pulling her? No. But Slick could work that stuff out later, as soon as she was free.
“What are you doing?”
Slick practically jumped, dropping the plastic bag onto the floor. Her eyes met the one’s of the wood truck, Lumber, his name was. She quickly gathered herself again and shot him a glare.
“Packing.” She replied, trying to keep her tone cool. As cool as she could for being nearly seven years old.
“What are you packing for? Are you leaving?”
For some reason, Slick was pretty sure he wouldn’t go tattling to Momma about her plan. “Yeah, I’m going back to my old yard.’
“Does Momma know?”
“No.”
“Can I have my room back then? I have to share with Porter now because you apparently get your own room because you’re a girl. It’s ok during the day and stuff, but Porter snores like a diesel horn at night.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t he a coal truck, shouldn’t he snore like a steamer’s whistle or something?”
Lumber laughed, almost grinning at her. “You’re actually funny, you know.”
“I know. And yah, you can have your room back, I don’t want it anyway.”
“Cool.” Then, Lumber was gone, and Slick was alone again. She returned to packing her things, setting them by the door in preparation for the night ahead.
There was a large hand on her shoulder. Slick had to hold in an audible gasp. How had she been caught when she’d been so careful? How could Momma still be up at a time like this? She’d stayed up till ten PM and everything!
Momma’s grip guided her body away from the front door, seating the tanker on the old couch and taking the plastic bag from her hands. Slick blinked, internally swearing to stay silent. The coach creaked underneath the steamer’s weight as she sat down as well, taking the oil truck’s hands in her own. “Would you like to come outside with me, Slick?” Now that wasn’t the question she’d been expecting. But Slick found herself nodding.
It was cold outside, the night air making the small freight shiver. An arm wrapped around her, as the two sat down outside the shed. Momma raised her head up to the sky. It was clear out, and they could see everything, all the lights twinkling in the sky.
“I know how much you want to go home kid. But the Starlight’s brought you here to me for a reason, the same way he brought you to your dad. It does this kid, cause it’s looking out for you. It’s watching over all of us, to make sure we’re all safe no matter who we are or where we come from”
Slick, for the first time, willingly leant into the steamer’s touch, gripping onto her frame. And for the second time, she cried.