A Loco Motion Picture

by Locomotion

Rating: everyone
Tags: Other, Drama, Original Character, Adventure, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 18683

A young railway fan from Ponyville finds himself in the lead role of a new film. But what happens when saboteurs strike?

Locomotion, a unicorn colt who used to live near Trottingham, is a keen railway enthusiast, and spends most of his time tending to the engines at Ponyville Sheds. One day, shortly after his latest cleaning turn, he is approached by a famous filmmaker from Canterlot who offers him the lead role in his latest production, a role that he eagerly takes up.

But while he and his friends, including the Cutie Mark Crusaders, are taking part in the film, strange goings-on have been hampering the production. Can Locomotion and his co-stars solve the mysteries and save the movie, or is his first appearance on the big screen going to be his last?

Told in the first person by Locomotion himself.

Published 2014-01-01 19:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-01-01 19:50:02 UTC

Chapter 1: The Railway Colt

Ponyville – not the sort of place you'd readily associate with Equestria's railway network, and I wouldn't blame you either. See, when most ponies think of Ponyville, they think of the bearers of the all-important Elements of Harmony, and in particular, the one who had been crowned as a new princess about a few years ago; Princess Twilight Sparkle. Well, that and the fact that it has the biggest apple orchard in Equestria, which incidentally is one of the few places you can obtain the famous Zap Apples. But that's not to say it isn't a good place for a railway enthusiast such as myself to live...

Anyway, I ought to introduce myself; my name is Locomotion, and I'm a unicorn colt who used to live in a village outside of Trottingham. I had always taken an interest in railways, steam locomotives in particular, since I was about half a year old or something (in fact, you can thank my favourite kiddies' book and TV series “Rodney the Railway Engine” for that!), and was overjoyed when my Dad told me that he had taken up a new job in a research lab near Ponyville. Thing is, the village where I used to live is okay, but there's not much going on there, whereas in Ponyville there's always something for a young filly or colt to see or do, especially one who loves railways as much as me.

Ponyville Central Station, for example, is a really important port of call for all sorts of passenger trains, from local stopping trains to the big expresses headed for places like Manehattan, the San Palomino Desert and the Crystal Empire. And then there's the goods yard – it's not much compared to the huge marshalling yards at, say, Canterlot or Baltimare, but there's still a lot of shunting to keep a railway enthusiast entertained, what with all the fruit traffic from Sweet Apple Acres and such.

Last but not least, of course, there's the Motive Power Depot. Engine sheds, in my mind, have always been a fascinating part of the railway network, no matter where they are located or how many engines live there, and Ponyville MPD is no exception; there's always a wide variety of engines on show, from little yard shunters and branch line tank-engines to beefy freight locomotives and graceful express passenger machines, and you get to see their crews oiling their joints, refilling them with coal and water, removing the ash from their smokeboxes and even turning them round ready for another run.

Among those working out of Ponyville MPD, incidentally, is my Uncle Steamer, a top-link locomotive driver who has lived here since about two years before I was born. He's always been a great source of support ever since he learned how I wanted to follow in his hoof-steps, and often takes me out as far as Trottingham in one direction, and Fort Maine in the other, at the head of whichever express he's been rostered to. I only ever came for the ride at first, but he soon let me try my hoof at driving under his supervision. His regular engine is No. 2508, “City of Cloudsdale”, a huge and majestic City Class 4-6-4 locomotive (that's four wheels at the front, six driving wheels, and four trailing wheels under the firebox and cab) built in 1971.

As I grew older, I put in so many appearances at the depot that Uncle Steamer put in a good word for me with the Motive Power Superintendent, who allowed me to work there as a cleaner. You wouldn't believe how overjoyed I was to know I'd be working for the railways – and at the age of seven too! I had to slap myself across the face in order to check I wasn't dreaming it! But yeah, apart from having to balance school-work with cleaning turns, I'd say I've been managing pretty well so far. My uncle must have seen a heck of a lot of potential in me...

But Uncle Steamer wouldn't be the only one by any means. The story I'm referring to begins on a crisp Saturday morning in mid-May, when I was working on one of the other City Class engines allocated to these very sheds – No. 2549 “City of Las Pegasus” – with the help of some classmates of mine who call themselves the Cutie Mark Crusaders.

I've usually been pretty supportive of the group as a whole, even going as far as to go out with one of them when they tried gaining Cutie Marks in dating a year back. To be honest, I wasn't really into dating back then, and neither did I see Tornado Bolt as more than just a friend – I was just humouring them in the hope that their Cutie Marks would appear. But other than that, I'm good friends with the lot of them, particularly Rumble and Pipsqueak, and have been known to hang out with them from time to time.

I probably shouldn't be saying this, but personally I can't help feeling as if those guys try a bit too hard most of the time. I can understand how important it is to gain a Cutie Mark, but surely you should try getting it in something you enjoy doing or are already good at? But then what do I know? I got mine at about eighteen months old, long before most foals usually do, so I'm hardly a good role model myself in that respect. Still, at least nopony would ever catch me being anywhere near as bad as that stuck-up Diamond Tiara – I mean, if you think about it, all she can be bothered to do is poke fun at anypony she thinks is beneath her, particularly blank-flanks! Heck, she even tried to target me on occasion – but I'm more than a match for that prissy pink waste of flesh and fur, and have more than once been able to put her in her place.

The cleaning turn they were helping me with was of course the latest of their Cutie Mark Crusader antics, and being the supportive kind of colt I am, I had already talked the Superintendent into letting them help me prepare the engine – but as you would expect out of fillies and colts who know virtually nothing about railways, I had a lot of explaining to do in order to keep them on track. Noi, for example, didn't quite understand the concept of “oiling round”, as we call it in the trade, so she kept pouring the lubrication oil onto the coupling and connecting rods rather than into the oil reservoirs as she should have been doing. And then there was all that malarkey with Apple Bloom polishing the engine's brass-work; the number of times I had to remind her that too much polish can tarnish the metal surfaces was a total farce! I can see now why the Superintendent was so reluctant to let them on site.

Still, between the Crusaders' mistakes and my constant lecturing, we just about managed to get the engine spruced up in time for her morning passenger turn. That done, we all got a good wash ourselves before heading over to the mess room for some well-earned breakfast. Uncle Steamer was there too, having just returned from an overnight turn on the Manehattan Limited. As soon as I'd sat myself down with a plate of fried eggs, hay bacon and hash browns, he comes over to my table and says, “Morning, Loco, how are you and your friends doing?”

Loco, in case you're wondering, is what my friends and family tend to call me for short.

“I'm okay, thanks, Uncle Steamer,” I says to him cheerfully. “Just finished getting the 'City of Las Pegasus' ready for service – well, me and the Crusaders, that is.”

“Did they manage okay?” he asked.

“Pretty much okay for beginners,” I replied. “Hardly what you'd call a professional job, but we got there in the end.”

At that moment, Apple Boom comes and sits down next to us with a bowl of apple slices, muttering, “Maybe we ain't cut out ta be railway ponies.”

“Don't sweat it, Apple Bloom,” I soothed. “You and the others did your best. Besides, we've all gotta start somewhere. Look at me for example; Uncle Steamer and my parents see me as a real expert on railways, but I'm still not eligible to fire an engine yet.”

“Why not?” That came from Noi, in case you're wondering. “All you need to do is shovel coal into the engine, don't you?”

“Actually, Noi, there's a lot more to firing an engine than that,” I pointed out. “You can't just throw that coal in at random – it needs to be carefully distributed around the firebox so that you've got a good fire all round. That way, you've more than enough heat to keep a good head of steam; but you mustn't put too much coal in, or else you'll just choke the flames.”

“Makes sense to me,” answered Sweetie-Belle – kind of out of the blue, I thought! But then that's hardly surprising; even I admit that I do tend to ramble on, particularly if I'm talking about steam locomotives, so it's hardly surprising that so many of the Crusaders had so much trouble processing that information.

So anyway, we all sat around the table with me and Uncle Steamer explaining all about how engines work and this, that and the other, when I heard someone talking to the Superintendent behind me in a somewhat camp, posh tone. I turned around, and on the other side of the canteen, I noticed an ochre-coloured unicorn with a red tie, a black mane and tail with blue highlights, a black moustache, a snazzy monocle over his left eye, and a reel of film for a Cutie Mark. Believe you me, I could hardly contain my excitement when I saw him, for that pony was none other than the internationally famous Technicolour Tarquin!

For those of you who don't know who I'm talking about, Technicolour Tarquin is a renowned film-maker from Canterlot. He's made a great deal of Applewood blockbusters over the years, many of which I've actually seen for myself – “The Manechurian Candidate”, “Pony Express”, “Bridleway Limited”, “The Great Appleloosa Train Robbery” – those are just some of the films to his credit, most of which included trains at some point or another, which is why I'm such a great fan of his movies. (Still, you probably saw that coming about a mile away anyway!) From what he and the Superintendent were saying, I could tell that he was making plans for his next film, though what it was about and what part Ponyville MPD was to play in it, even I couldn't quite put my hoof on it myself.

In any event, though, I didn't see myself playing a role in his films any time soon, so I thought nothing more of it and turned back to my breakfast, trying to preoccupy myself with what Uncle Steamer was saying about his passenger turn the previous day. Imagine my surprise, then, when I heard the topic of conversation between Tarquin and the Superintendent shift in a certain other direction.

“I say,” he asked of the Superintendent, “who's that young unicorn fellow sitting over on the far side of the canteen talking with one of your drivers?”

I was rather confused at first, but assured myself that he must have been talking about one of the fireponies.

“Oh, that's Locomotion, Driver Steamer's nephew. He often comes up here to help clean the engines,” the Superintendent replied.

Now if that didn't throw me for a loop, I dunno what would – I hadn't expected Tarquin to take any notice of a common cleaner such as myself! What he had to say next, though, proved me drastically wrong.

“You don't say! Does he like steam engines then?”

“I think 'like' is an understatement,” chuckled the Superintendent. “According to Steamer, Locomotion's always been interested in railways ever since he was a baby, and even today he's such an expert on such matters that he even makes some of my drivers and fireponies look bad!”

“A devoted railway enthusiast, eh?”

“Indeed so.”

Now, I'm not the sort of pony to stereotype others, but the first thing I expected out of Tarquin was some sort of snide brush-off. But once again, I was wrong.

“Marvellous!” he announced in a jubilant tone. “That's precisely the sort of colt I'm looking for! I say, Locomotion, might I have a word, please?”

Subconsciously wondering what I'd done to upset him, I nervously got up and made my way over to where he and the Superintendent were standing. “Um...yes, sir?”

“Your Motive Power Superintendent was just telling me about how much you enjoyed working on trains,” he says to me graciously. “Tell me, dear boy, if I were to offer you the lead role in a film about them, what would your reaction be? Because your personality is absolutely perfect for the central character in my latest production.”

At this point, I have a question too, and that is: how in the name of Luna do you contain your excitement when you've been approached by a world-famous film-maker to star as the main character in one of his productions? I had always enjoyed seeing them on TV, video or in the cinema, but to actually become part of his films in my own right – that was like a foalhood dream come true!

“Oh, I'd love to, sir!” I gushed, trying my best to suppress my inner fan-colt.

“Splendid, splendid!” smiled Tarquin. “In that case, I shall write to your parents at once and inform them of the new film role I have in mind for you. How are you for next Friday afternoon, by the way?”

“Um...nothing special planned for that day. Why, is that when you'll be holding your auditions?”

“Indeed it is, my dear boy,” he affirmed. “Oh, and if you could inform any friends of yours about the auditions, I'd be very much obliged.”

Not much difficulty in that, I thought, seeing as the Cutie Mark Crusaders had probably been listening in. “Consider it done, Mr Tarquin!” I promised.

“Capital!” answered Tarquin, nodding his wholehearted approval. “I'll see you on Friday then,” and he and the Superintendent left the canteen.

I was quite right about the others eavesdropping on the conversation too. When I returned to our table, they were all gazing at me in awe.

“Wow!” squeaked Sweetie-Belle, noticeably impressed. “Did that pony really just offer you a role in a film, Loco?”

“He sure did,” I beamed, still unable to contain my excitement. “I don't know the premise of the film, yet, but he seemed to think I was perfect for the lead role. How about that, eh?!”

“You lucky colt!” remarked Uncle Steamer, ruffling my mane in a friendly way. “I always knew you'd make a name for yourself in the railway world, Loco, but I never thought it'd be this soon. You ought to be proud of yourself!”

“Aw, thanks, Uncle Steamer,” I smiled. Then I turned my attention back to the Crusaders; “But he did say he wanted other fillies and colts to star alongside me in this film, so potentially I'm not the only one. What do you say, guys? Give movie business a shot?”

Scootaloo was the first to speak up; “You bet we will, Loco!” she says eagerly. “This'll be a brilliant way to get our Cutie Marks!”

“Ah'll say it will!” chimed in Apple Bloom.

“Count me in, Loco!” added Rumble.

“Me too!” squeaked Sweetie-Belle eagerly.

I could only smile as they all bumped their hooves together to a shout of “Cutie Mark Crusader Movie Stars!” Whether or not they would be good enough for the film...well, we'd just have to wait and see. But I knew one thing; if I did make it into this film myself, this would be the experience of a lifetime.

Chapter 2: Movie Magic

Word of Technicolour Tarquin's arrival in Ponyville quickly spread round town, and when Friday came and my Dad took me to the Town Hall for the auditions, the place was jam-packed with ponies vying to get a role in the film. Many had already been rejected, but even then the queues didn't seem to get any smaller.

Admittedly, I was rather nervous. What if I wasn't actually good enough for the role Tarquin had in mind for me? What if somepony else turned out to be a much better actor than me? What if...nah, that was just silly – Tarquin wouldn't just cancel the film! Once he starts on one, he always sees it through to the end, even if at one point or another it looks like it'll be a box-office flop. But yeah, even I know that being a railway enthusiast isn't everything in playing the role of one in a film, so I was silently hoping I wouldn't make a monkey out of myself in front of the others.

Before I knew it, I heard Tarquin calling out “Next”. Nervously, I made my way onto the stage, my Dad whispering a few words of encouragement as I went. At first, I wasn't sure what to say – but then I remembered a really tense bit of dialogue from one of Tarquin's other films, and decided to give that a try.

“Get the pressure on, driver!” I yelled, pretending I was on a locomotive pursuing a group of bandits. “We'll never catch those ruffians otherwise......what? Hot axlebox?! Right, pass me that oil-can! I'll fix it!”

Having finished my line, I turned and gazed anxiously at Tarquin, hoping my quote had been good enough. It must have been, though, because he instantly stood up and stomped his front hooves in applause, proclaiming my performance to be, in his words, “perfectly executed”. Even some of the other ponies who were waiting for auditioning gazed in utter disbelief.

Despite all this, I was still not sure whether or not I had actually won the part, and I tell you what, I lost a fair bit of sleep wondering if maybe Tarquin had decided on somepony else for the lead role. It came as a surprise when I came down for breakfast a week later to find a letter waiting for me on the table with Tarquin's name on the return address. Still a little unsure of myself, I opened the letter, and was delighted to find that it read, and I quote:

“Dear Locomotion,

I am delighted to inform you that following last week's audition, you have successfully secured for yourself the role of the lead character in my upcoming war action film, 'BATTLE OF THE GRIFFINS'. There will be a great deal of preparation required before production can begin, but I aim to start shooting in three weeks' time. I have enclosed a copy of the script so that you can rehearse your parts with your family and friends, along with a list of your co-stars, and would like to extend my utmost congratulations.
See you in a few weeks.

Yours Sincerely,
Technicolour Tarquin.”

And I tell you what, that letter more than made my day. Me, a lead character in a Technicolour Tarquin film – I could hardly believe it! But that wasn't all; the Cutie Mark Crusaders had all won roles in the film themselves, along with some of my other friends. To name just a few, Scootaloo was playing the part of a cynical young Pegasus named Thunderbird, her coltfriend Rumble was to be a sporty colt named Clean Sweep, Apple Bloom's part was that of a country lover named Golden Wonder, and Sweetie-Belle was an aspiring singer named Harmony. I even read that a cousin of Apple Bloom's was coming down from Manehattan to play the role of her character's twin sister Pear Drop – somepony by the name of Babs Seed or something. I could go on about the casting, but I'd just be galloping off at a tangent.

Moving on from all that, I told my friends about my new film role, and needless to say, they were absolutely delighted. For a long time afterwards, whenever my co-stars and I weren't rehearsing our parts, we would talk endlessly about the new film – although we always took care not to reveal the plot to anypony else. Feelings towards their roles, of course, were rather mixed; Sweetie-Belle was a bit nervous about playing the role of a singer, and Tornado Bolt seemed pretty annoyed with the cheeky prankster she was to play, but Scootaloo quite liked the name and personality of her character, and High Score, another friend of mine – well, his real name's Button Mash, but he and everypony else prefers High Score as a nickname – he was rather eager to be playing the role of Pear Drop and Golden Wonder's younger brother Capability Brown for some reason.

Amazingly, I myself found very little wrong with my own character aside from being pretty gifted with magic – but that was still a big problem, whichever way you look at it. See, I'm still only a novice at certain spells, so when I tried to generate a distress flare as required in one scene, I only succeeded in setting a patch of flowers on fire. That was definitely something I had to discuss with Tarquin when I got the chance, I thought.

But at least I didn't have to worry about Diamond Tiara being part of the film too, because that would have made it extremely awkward for all of us. She had tried to audition, but predictably she was extremely snooty about it, and Tarquin didn't really approve of her attitude, so he dropped her. Goes without saying that she wasn't at all pleased at being cut from the film before she had even tried to make an appearance, and when she heard I was in the lead role, she was extremely jealous.

“How is it that some puffer nutter like you is in that film and I'm not?” she scowled one day. “I should have been part of the cast myself!”

“Oh, yeah, maybe you do deserve a role in one of Tarquin's films,” I replied casually. “Maybe I ought to see if I can get him to cast you as......let's say an 'extra'. That'll give you all the screen time you deserve.”

I was only being sarcastic at that last part, though. I knew as well as Tarquin did that she didn't deserve any screen time at all, but I just enjoyed winding her up for the heck of it.

“Me play an 'extra' while you hog the spotlight?! No fear!” Diamond Tiara protested. “Besides, what have you got that I haven't?”

“A better respect for others, for a start,” I retorted calmly. “Why do you think Tarquin rejected you at the auditions? I mean, seriously, you're not gonna get anywhere in life by acting as if you're the Queen of this land.” I then put on an obnoxious mockery of Diamond Tiara's voice and said, “Oh, look at me, everypony, my name's Diamond Tiara, and I'm the stupidest, meanest, prissiest, most selfish pony in all Equestria, and I deserve to be a Princess,” before resuming my normal voice; “Well, nice try, Diamond Tiara, but you've already been beaten to the post more times than I can count.”

“Oh yeah? Well what makes you think...”

“But if it's any consolation to you, I've managed to secure a job for you at Sweet Apple Acres – helping to prepare for the Zap Apple harvest, that is!”

The look of shock on Diamond Tiara's face was priceless!

So yeah, after those three weeks of rehearsing – and having to contend with Diamond Tiara's whining and moping – Babs arrived from Manehattan, and Tarquin was given approval by Equestrian National Railways to use the stations at Ponyville and the nearby towns of Albaneigh and Delamare in his film, along with the route that connected the three towns together. That weekend, we were all gathered in a field about a mile out from Ponyville Central Station, preparing for the opening scene of the film.

Already I was finding Tarquin quite an interesting stallion to work with. He wasn't as self-important or as opinionated as your stereotypical film director, even though to some he may have seemed that way; he was a pretty jolly sort of guy, very reasonable, very good at listening to others, and as I discovered when I told him about the problems I had with my character's magical abilities, he wasn't above altering the script to better suit the actors if need be. He was more than willing to make use of anypony else's ideas if he could see them working in the context of his films, but he was also extremely careful to ensure that they were as authentic and realistic as was equinely possible. That's what I like about his films – they're epic, but there's way more realism in them than you can shake a stick at.

His magical abilities are pretty awesome too. Whenever he issued his instructions, his horn would glow, and he would talk at a volume that wasn't too far off the Royal Canterlot Voice that I'd read about – something he called his “Megatone”. And then there was his party piece...

“Okay, everypony,” he announced as soon as the cameras were ready, “take up positions please.”

I was rather confused. “Hang on, Mr Tarquin...” I began.

“Locomotion, my dear fellow, I already told you to just call me Tarquin,” he chuckled heartily. “Now then, what seems to be the problem?”

“The picnic hasn't been set up yet,” I replied. “Don't you want us to get the stuff out of the hamper before we shoot?”

“Oh, that won't be necessary,” Tarquin assured me. Just as I was about to ask why, his horn glowed so brightly that I could barely see. He reared back, flung his forelegs into the air and, using his Megatone voice, he boomed those two immortal words, “MOVIE MAGIC!”

The moment he had said that, everything around us seemed to explode in a brilliant flash of white light. When at last it cleared, I swear my jaw nearly dropped out of its sockets in disbelief as I noticed that the picnic was all neatly laid out in front of us! It was as if somepony had stopped time for a few minutes while he or she had set it up!

“How did you do that?!” gasped Sweetie-Belle, equally baffled.

“That was something I learned in my school days,” explained Tarquin proudly. “When making a movie, it's difficult to get things exactly how you want them for certain, but I learned that if I uttered the words 'Movie Magic', I could create a magical surge powerful enough to do just that. In fact, that's precisely the reason I don't leave it up to my colleagues alone – if you want something done right, you do it yourself, as they say.”

Only then did I find my voice. “That's quite the talent you have there, Tarquin,” I admired.

Tarquin simply waved a hoof in casual dismissal. “Oh please, it's nothing special really.”

“Maybe in a perpendicular universe it isn't,” I quipped as I took up my position with the others.

The filming of the opening scene went quite well for first-timers like us. Rumble and Apple Bloom did manage to mess up a few of their lines, but that was only in the first take, and the second time round, they made a much better job of acting out their parts – although Babs' initial performance was a little lacking somehow!

After about six takes, we made our way over to the railway line for the next part of the scene. That was where we would be standing by the fence and watching a train going past containing...well, I can't really tell you who yet, or I'll spoil the story. Anyway, as soon as the cameras were ready again and Tarquin had ordered the train to set off, we all stood and waited for it to reach us.

Soon, the train came roaring majestically into view, and after hearing Tarquin's call of “ACTION”, my co-actors and I began to wave cheerfully as it passed us by, Scootaloo in a rather half-hearted manner since her character wasn't supposed to be overly fussed about trains. As it passed, I noticed that the engine was a visitor from down south – specifically, it was Aurora Class 4-8-2 No. 7708 “Equinox” – and there was a unicorn mare aged somewhere in her twenties waving back at us from one of the first-class coaches at the front. She looked a bit like a lavender-coated, blue-maned version of Fluttershy.

I couldn't remember whether this was part of the script or just a genuine overreaction, but Sweetie-Belle's waving became a lot more vigorous and enthusiastic when she noticed the mare waving at us. Maybe it was something to do with the actress aboard the train; I myself had seen that face before on Tarquin's films, but at the time, I couldn't for the life of me recall the name of that pony. But knowing that I was still on camera at that moment, of course, I kept my thoughts to myself. Only when Tarquin finally called out “CUT” did any of us say anything – but it wasn't me who spoke first by any means.

“Oh – my – gosh!” squealed Sweetie-Belle in ecstasy. “Did you see that?! Did you see who was on the train?!”

“Duh!” retorted Scootaloo. “Of course we saw who was on the train! What's the big deal anyway?”

But Sweetie-Belle seemed so starstruck that she didn't answer to Scootaloo's snide remark. She just bounced excitedly back to the horse-carriage that was to take us back to Ponyville Central, where we would meet the actress who had just waved at us – and throughout the journey, she wouldn't stop chattering about said pony, whether any of us were really listening to her or not. Still, I suppose that's the norm with Sweetie-Belle these days.

As soon as we arrived, Tarquin had the film crew unload a few cameras from the cart we had taken with us for props and equipment, and assembled me, Sweetie-Belle, Rumble, Apple Bloom, Babs and High Score on the station platform, where “Equinox” stood quietly simmering away at the head of the train. While they were setting up, he requested for me and Sweetie-Belle to accompany him into the same first-class coach as the one from which we had seen that unicorn mare wave at us.

“I don't get it,” I remember saying as we followed him aboard the train. “How come you need an escort if all you're doing is speaking with one of your actresses?”

Tarquin chuckled heartily. “Oh, I never said I needed an escort. There's actually someone very special in Compartment B that I'd like to introduce you to – and particularly you, young Sweetie-Belle,” he explained, smiling broadly.

Sweetie-Belle's eyes lit up on hearing that last bit, but I still didn't understand why Tarquin was being so secretive about it. Only when he opened the compartment door did I finally find that out, for no sooner has he done so than Sweetie Belle suddenly lets out an excited gasp and goes “OHMYGOSHOHMYGOSHOHMYGOSH!! I'M ACTUALLY SEEING FACE TO FACE WITH HER AT LAST! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!!!!”

And that's when it hit me; “Oh, of course! You're Lavender Rhapsody!” I exclaimed.

The mare smiled kindly in reply. “The very same,” she affirmed. “You're the leading colt he was talking about?”

“Oh, yes,” I says proudly. “I'm Locomotion, but my friends just call me Loco.”

“Pleasure to meet you. And who is this charming young filly here? Friend of yours?”

“Yep – her name's Sweetie-Belle.”

In case you're wondering, Lavender Rhapsody's a world-famous singer and actress from Sydneigh, on the Eastern Seaboard. She's starred in all of Tarquin's best films and many others besides, and from what the Cutie Mark Crusaders have told me, Sweetie-Belle seems to idolise her as much as Scootaloo does her legal guardian Rainbow Dash. The number of times she's gone on about Lavender's music and how much she wants to meet her...I'm quite impressed she's still had enough energy for whatever wacky attempt at gaining their Cutie Marks they have in mind! Even now, she couldn't seem to stop staring at her hero, mouth agape with ecstatic joy, and I had to poke her ribs in order to bring her out of it.

“Please tell me this isn't a dream!” she breathed.

“Oh, believe me, my dear Sweetie-Belle, this is for real alright,” chortled Tarquin. “Lavender Rhapsody is here to play the role of your character's older cousin Nightingale. Your sister Rarity, who by the way has very graciously offered to make the costumes for this film, mentioned to me earlier this week that you were a great fan of Lavender's music, and that is why I decided to change the script to allow you two to act alongside each other.”

That filly was well over the moon with this news, and we had a hard job trying to get on with the film work due to her hugging Tarquin tightly and thanking him over and over again. I mean, for ponies' sake, Sweetie-Belle, I know you were excited to meet Lavender Rhapsody, but we've got a film to make! Can't you just save it for when we've finished, please?!

Anyway, we eventually managed to get that part of the script out of the way – basically it was me and the others meeting Harmony's cousin for the first time – and after filming a few takes, the film crew packed the equipment away so that we could go back to the nearby railway hotel and get a bit of downtime before the next big scene. While all this was going on, however, one of the other stallions who was with us on the platform, a charcoal-coloured Earth pony with a dark grey mane and tail and shifty green eyes, comes up to me and says, “You enjoying being part of this film then, youngster?”

I didn't really like the tone of his voice, to be honest; it sounded a bit too smooth and calculating for my liking. But I tried not to show it as I affirmed to him that I was indeed enjoying it. He then gives me a sly look as if somepony's about to grab me and run off.

“I just hope you won't be too disappointed when you find that this film isn't going to make it onto the big screen,” he adds in the most pathetic attempt at a sympathetic tone I've ever heard. “Tarquin does his best with these films of his, we'll give him that, but he's hardly had any success with most of them.”

That was enough to make me grit my teeth in disgust. As I said earlier, Tarquin had a gift at making even the lamest story-lines good enough to entertain his audiences, and to hear somepony say he was a complete clown at that sort of thing – well, they might as well have been directing that towards me! “What the hay are you talking about?!” I snapped. “Tarquin's one of the best film-makers alive today – since when has he ever had a box-office failure, might I ask?!”

The stallion gave me a look of disbelief as if I'm the stupidest moron that Princess Celestia has ever put breath into. “Okay then, youngster, name me all the films that have made a name for him at Applewood.”

“Gladly – 'Bridleway Limited', 'Pony Express', 'The Big Letrotski', 'The Stallion Who Would Be King', 'Inspector Horse', 'The Great Appleloosa Train Robbery', the whole 'Harry Trotter' saga – even when he came to film 'The Manechurian Candidate', he didn't just stand around and say 'Oh, I'll just use whatever engines I have at my disposal here in Equestria.' No – he actually went out there to Chineighsia and spared no expense in making it as authentic as he could, even so far as to hire one of their XM Pacifics to pull the train!” I countered. “How do you call him a box-office flop after that, eh?!”

“Yeah?” replied the stallion, holding up a video case as if to try and trump me. “Well how do you call this a success, might I add?”

Well...nice try, except that the film he was showing me was nothing to do with Tarquin. I could tell by the signature on the bottom right corner of the case; it was a double-T, not unlike Tarquin's signature, but it was in a slightly different pattern, and the second T looked like a poorly drawn number 2.

“Do you seriously expect me to believe Tarquin was the reason behind the failure of 'Wolfpony' when he never had anything to do with it in the first place?!” I scoffed. “He never even bothers with these stupid horror movies, any more than you seem to be a competent member of his film unit!”

The stallion opened his mouth to argue further, but nothing came out. I guess he must have realised that I'd won the battle of wits that had been raging between us for the past few minutes, and that he'd have to back down before he made a complete fool of himself. So instead of digging an even deeper well for himself, he turns and walks huffily away, muttering something under his breath; but somehow, I was sure we weren't going to see or hear the last of him.

Chapter 3: Mysterious Mishaps

Back at the hotel, I found out that I wasn't the only one to have been confronted by that stallion. Lickety-Split, who was starring alongside me as a colt named Chocolate Chip Cookie (or simply Cookie for short), came up to me in the lounge shortly after we had eaten, and asked if Tarquin had really had any major failures when it came to his films. I was rather taken aback by this.

“Why would anypony think that?” I quizzed.

“I dunno,” he answered, “but the stallion who was talking to me earlier certainly seemed to think so. He was going on about Tarquin simply acting like a successful director so that nopony would realise how hopeless he is at making films...which I take it isn't true?”

“As an avid fan of his films, I can vouch for that,” I affirmed. “You were talking with a charcoal-coloured camera-pony, I take it?”

“Yeah, that's the one. Only thing is...” Lickety-Split paused and looked over his shoulder, confusing me even further. “...I'm not really sure he was actually part of Tarquin's film crew in the first place.”

That really caught me out, I tell you that much. For a while, I was just stood there, gaping at Lickety-Split in baffled disbelief. I just wanted to go into a rant there and then, but words failed me altogether.

“He had asked me to name whatever films Tarquin had succeeded at, but Tarquin came up and demanded to know what he was doing among the film crew before I could think of a few examples,” continued Lickety-Split. “He didn't seem that pleased to see that stallion, whoever he was, and ordered him to leave at once.”

At last, I found my voice. “That doesn't sound right,” I mused. “Why would some random stallion be trying to pose as a camera-pony just so he can spread rumours about Tarquin?”

“Dunno,” admitted Lickety-Split, “but I wouldn't like to cross paths with that pony again.”

“Me neither,” I agreed, and tried to soothe my nerves by changing the subject; “So how are the others doing anyway?”

“Well, Tarquin's been pretty busy making arrangements for the next few scenes, and High Score seems to be spending an awful lot of time with that Babs Seed filly...”

I just had to laugh at that point. I didn't know Babs very well yet, but already I was beginning to realise why High Score had been so eager about her being here in Ponyville with us.

“...but I haven't seen much of Sweetie-Belle since we got back. I dunno why...unless it's something I've done.”

“In your dreams, Lickety,” I assured him. “She's just excited because her idol's here and she wants to spend as much time with Lavender Rhapsody as she can.”

Lickety-Split looked a little disconcerted; but before he could reply, he was beaten to it by the sound of rock music coming from the bar across the hallway. Once again, I could only chuckle as he and I went to investigate - it turned out that Lavender and Sweetie-Belle had decided to sing a bit of karaoke together, and were performing a rehash of the Cutie Mark Crusaders' theme song. I have to say, though, from the look on Lickety-Split's face, I couldn't tell whether he was baffled or disturbed by how well those two were getting on together, or whether he was just impressed by Sweetie-Belle's awesome talent at singing; but assuming the former, I patted my friend on the shoulder and said, “I wouldn't worry too much, Lickety. She may be obsessed with Lavender, but I'm sure she still likes you very much.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” agreed Lickety-Split, calming down a little.

“Besides, Lavender's gonna want to spend a bit of time in Tarquin's company as well, so you'll still get your moments with Sweetie-Belle,” I added.

“Yeah, that's...wait, what?!” he exclaimed, doing a double-take. I guess he never saw that one coming! “What the hay are you talking about?!”

“Hadn't you heard?” I whispered into his ear. “There's a bit of a rumour going around that Lavender Rhapsody and Technicolour Tarquin are really growing on each other, if you know what I mean. Dunno whether it's really true or not, but they seem to be doing a pretty bad job of hiding it.”

We both chuckled as we imagined Tarquin entering a dimly lit room, with Lavender Rhapsody laid out on a couch in front of him like one of those French mares you see in paintings and such.

The next few days went quite well for us. At the crack of dawn, we would assemble at the hotel reception before heading out to our filming locations, mostly on board a train that Tarquin had hired specially for his crew, actors, props and equipment. I became quite used to travelling out of Ponyville in the morning, acting out a few scenes with the others throughout the day, and then heading back to the hotel in the evening; not only that, but I enjoyed the insight I got into what goes on behind the scenes, from the make-up mare sprucing us up to the special-effects guys preparing the set so that we could simulate an accident or an explosion or whatever.

Already, Tarquin had taken quite a shine to me, and we quickly became good friends. Every evening, we would sit in the lounge and talk everlastingly of films, trains and all our other interests, but always made sure we didn't leave Lavender out. There was one time, about a week after we began filming, when he confided that he had indeed fallen for her, but hadn't plucked up the courage to tell her for fear of ruining both their careers. Good thing she was elsewhere at the time!

Babs and High Score were getting on pretty well too, so much so, in fact, that Tarquin revised the script to allow them to interact with each other more – in a sort of brother-sisterly way, of course. I had to laugh at the looks on their faces when he told them as much – that was just too rich! I tell you what, though, it so wasn't me who suggested it to him. Besides, Tarquin has admitted to being a bit of a romantic in some ways, so he's always ready to insert a small, subtle hint towards a potential pairing here and there.

Anyway, all told, things were going pretty smoothly regarding all the film work we were doing. But on the seventeenth day of filming, however, things started to go wrong...

The day pretty much started out like any other. We assembled in front of the hotel reception as usual, and once we had all been accounted for, we headed out to the filming location – in this case, at Ponyville Sheds. Once we had arrived, Tarquin and his film crew went about setting up the cameras and other equipment, and the Superintendent marshalled the engines into whichever sidings Tarquin required them to be. Around half an hour and a bellow of “MOVIE MAGIC” later, everything was ready.

What was meant to happen within that scene was that my character would notice what he thought was a griffin saboteur lurking on the far side of the depot. He would then wander across the tracks to investigate, with Harmony, Cookie, Nightingale, Thunderbird and Clean Sweep right behind him in case of need. For that part of the scene, a special track had been set up so that the camera could follow my progress.

Sweetie-Belle didn't quite get why it was there at first. “What's with the extra train tracks?” she asked, eyeing them in confusion. “There's loads of them already in this yard, so why lay an extra one down? And why isn't it wide enough for normal engines?”

“Silly!” I chuckled. “That's not for the engines to run on; it's there for what's known in the trade as a 'camera-dolly', something that's designed to carry out special 'tracking shots' without wobbling or jolting.”

“Tracking shots?”

“It's when the camera follows you across the set.”

I dare say Scootaloo must have been pretty baffled by all that, because she just went into an awkward silence before blurting out, “What are you, a dictionary?!”

So yeah, with the sets and props all sorted out, we took up our positions ready for filming. The cameras began to roll, Tarquin called out the command of “ACTION”, and we were just starting to play out the scene when the pony who had been assigned to the camera-dolly came running across the yard shouting, “CUT! CUT!!!”

“What is the meaning of this, Cannister!” demanded Tarquin. “I'm the director of this film – I'm the one who's supposed to be telling you when to stop acting!”

“But boss, the dolly camera's not working right!” protested the camera-pony. “There's a horrible grinding noise going on in there every time I try to roll the film!”

Tarquin looked rather put out. “You could have told me sooner,” he muttered, and made his way across to the camera-dolly with the agitated camera-pony closely following. Some of the actors, including myself, came to see what the matter was, but when Tarquin opened up the camera-magazine, the last thing I was expecting was to find the reel of film in a right tangle and the mechanism pretty much disintegrated.

“How the hay did that happen?!” I exclaimed.

“I don't know,” admitted the camera-pony. “I'm pretty certain I inserted that reel properly while we were setting up.”

Tarquin pondered for a moment, examining the damaged camera. “We must have picked up a faulty reel,” he surmised at last. “We'll have to wait a few minutes while we rig up another camera.”

“Or maybe somepony came and messed up the reel while we weren't looking,” muttered the camera-pony doubtfully.

I wasn't too sure myself, but after that encounter with the stallion pretending to be one of the camera crew, I felt inclined to agree. There was something very fishy about this mishap, and I had a nasty feeling that worse was to come...

Turns out I was quite right too! We eventually got the depot scene out of the way, but over the next week, the whole film-making process slowly became further and further plagued with all sorts of problems; props went missing or were discovered to be broken, false instructions were issued to the actors that had to be corrected later on, engines had to be taken out of service due to unforeseen faults, and there was even an instance of the camera-dolly derailing. It's a wonder Tarquin managed to control his temper throughout these mishaps.

The following Saturday, it all came to a head. Our train was to take us out to a field near Delamare for one of the really big action scenes – the derailment of the first of a military train convoy by the griffins – and needless to say, most of us were pretty excited. But at the same time, I myself was rather apprehensive about the whole thing. A sequence like that would be the perfect opportunity for whoever it was that messed up that camera to strike once again, and this time, it might have some pretty nasty consequences.

So anyway, we're out on the main line with our train being hauled by a Mustang Class 2-10-0 freight engine, No. 602. All the actors, technicians, camera crew, art directors, etc. are in the coach at the front of the train, with a line of box-vans behind containing our props and equipment. Sweetie-Belle and Lickety-Split are chatting with Lavender Rhapsody, Babs is cuddling with High Score, Scootaloo and Rumble are having an idle chat of their own, Apple Bloom's going through a list of potential Cutie Mark Crusader missions with some of the other Crusaders, and I'm talking railways with Tarquin once again. I still couldn't get all those problems we'd experienced over the past week out of my head, and kept wondering what kind of dastardly act might be carried out against Tarquin's filming company during that scene.

Just as we had passed through a wayside station about twelve miles out of Ponyville, though, there was a crack from behind our coach, and we felt a sudden jolt as the engine inexplicably began to pick up speed. Leaning out of the window, I noticed that a coupling had parted, and the rear portion of the train had broken free from the coach. I think our driver must have noticed too, because we soon came to a gentle halt, with the automatic air brakes stopping the rest of the train some way behind.

As soon as we're stationary, Tarquin gets out of the coach to see what's happened, takes one look at the vans and goes “By George! How in the world did that happen?!”

Of course, none of us can answer that question at that moment, but even so, I had a hunch that somepony had deliberately caused the coupling to break. Unsure whether Tarquin would think I was jumping to conclusions, however, I kept quiet about it as the firepony telephoned Ponyville Station to tell them what had happened.

The breakaway had led to the brake pipe connection on the front of the first van being ripped clean off, so until we could make it airtight again, we weren't going anywhere. Our driver stuffed some old rags into the damaged brake pipe, and a helper engine was called forward to keep the brakes off. Luckily, that didn't take half as long as I thought it would, so within about five minutes of the other engine's arrival, we were on our way again.

We arrived at the filming location only about half an hour late, but that was more than enough time to get the accident scene out of the way before nightfall. Among the actors on the set that day were a number of griffins who were playing the roles of terrorists trying to stop the convoy, whose role would be played by the train that had brought us here. It was a really simple job; once the scene was set and the cameras rolling, all they needed to do was dislodge a rail from the spikes holding it in place.

With the track suitably weakened, our train was reversed well away from the set, and the other foals and I, along with Lavender, took up our positions ready for the next part of the scene, in which we would come to see the passing of the convoy, but I would notice the damage that had been done to the rail and try to warn the crew. Since we could only do the actual derailment once, this part of the scene was split into two – me and the others noticing the griffins' act of sabotage (which would naturally require more than one take), and the accident sequence that would follow.

It was probably a good thing that the scene called for a fair bit of caution on my part, because I still hadn't shaken the feeling that somepony out there was about to cause such a horrible mess-up that others might be badly hurt – or worse......it wasn't something I wanted to think about, but I could still feel the menacing eyes of whoever was trying to wreck this film staring coldly at me, almost as if my time was drawing near...

After about four takes, Tarquin signalled for the engine crew to get the train moving for the crucial part of the scene – the derailment. Both driver and firepony were mere Earth ponies, and therefore wouldn't be able to escape by any other means than just leaping overboard, something that caused a great deal of worry on my part at first. Luckily, Tarquin had planned ahead; after the brakes were applied, he would teleport them out of the cab and onto a nearby field, well out of shot.

As per the script, once the train and cameras were rolling, I ran towards the train, shooting sparks in warning and yelling for them to stop. The driver then shut off steam and slammed the brakes hard on, followed by a call of “MOVIE MAGIC!” and a flash of light as Tarquin teleported them to safety, after which my co-actors and I watched the train hurtle past us. With a loud clattering and crunching, the 602 pushed the rails apart and bumped over the sleepers and ballast for another few yards before finally grinding to a halt.

“Okay, CUT!” crowed Tarquin once all the noise had died down. From the sound of his voice, I could tell he was more than satisfied with the way the scene had turned out, which made me feel a little more at ease. Anyway, having relocated the cameras for the third part of the scene, the crew scrambled back into the derailed engine, and as soon as we heard the call to “ACTION!” again, my co-actors and I ran over to the cab.

At this point, my character was supposed to climb aboard and see if the crew were hurt; but as I was doing so, there was a crash from behind. I leaned out of the cab, and to my alarm, I noticed that the other engine had ploughed right into the rear of our train. No doubt Tarquin had been caught unawares by that crash too, because he jumped up from his chair and ran out onto the set shouting “CUT! CUT!!”, this time with a tone of annoyance in his voice.

“Alright, who set that helper engine into motion?!?” he demanded once we had stopped what we were doing. “You people knew perfectly well that I only wanted the 602 off the rails! Now who was it?!”

Nopony answered. I made a quick survey of the area, keeping a sharp lookout for that charcoal-coloured pony who had confronted me and Lickety-Split three weeks previously; but of course, I couldn't find anypony of the sort. Eventually, Tarquin came up to me and asked if I or my co-actors had seen anypony abandoning loco.

“Afraid not, Tarquin,” I admitted unhappily. “I saw the engine crash, but little else.”

Tarquin looked rather frustrated. “Well that's just perfect!” he growled crossly. “I should have sent that confounded freight locomotive straight back to Ponyville MPD the moment we arrived!”

Lavender came up to him at this point and rested a reassuring hoof on his shoulder. “It's not so bad, Tekkie,” she soothed. (For the record, 'Tekkie' is her pet name for him.) “You could always pass it off as the driver having not warned the engine at the rear of the train; and besides, the script already calls for a crane to come and clear the line, does it not?”

After a short pause to consider the potentially sticky situation we had been landed with, Tarquin's expression softened. “Quite right, Lavender darling,” he agreed thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose we can still draw some good from this mishap, even if the rear-end collision was unintentional. I knew there was a reason I picked you as my leading mare,” he added with a broad smile.

Chapter 4: Accident!

So after a quick script alteration to have Lickety-Split go and check the rear of the train, we restarted filming. There weren't any further mishaps with that part of the scene, and we finished in good time for a lunch break while a wrecking train was sent up from Ponyville MPD. The cameras were relocated to capture its arrival, and once it had pulled up alongside the 602, Tarquin had a quick word with the forestallion prior to filming the recovery scene that was to follow.

Before we took up our positions, I gave the other foals a quick pep talk about the wrecking crane, and warned them to stay clear while it was in operation. The way the scene was supposed to go was that I would go speak with the forestallion myself before accosting the others back to the stretchers that had been laid out for the whole train crew, and we would then watch as the crane lifted the engine clear of the wreckage.

“Am I glad you guys turned up,” I remarked as I trotted up to the crane. I was mainly saying that because it was part of the script; but after that unplanned collision, part of me really meant it.

“How are the crew, Locomotion?” asked the forestallion. “Anypony hurt?”

“Nope – just badly shaken and bruised,” I replied. “How long do you reckon it'll be before that train's able to get going again?”

The forestallion paused, carefully surveying the wreckage. “Could be a pretty long job,” he said at last. “I'd say about five hours at least. We'll do what we can, though.”

“Okay. Is there anything we can do to help?”

“Thanks, but we'll manage just fine by ourselves. Just keep everypony well away from the crane,” advised the forestallion.

I promised that I would, and ordered the other foals to make their way back to the stretchers, which had been laid out next to the fourth wagon from the front of the train. Most of them did as they were told, but just as we were passing the 602's tender, I happened to notice Babs glancing underneath the crane. Thinking that she was missing her cue, I turned and marched back to her.

“Pear Drop, what are you doing?” I called, taking care to stay in character. “I told you to go back to the assembly area – now come on!”

But Babs didn't seem to be paying any attention. “Somepony was under that crane just a moment ago!”

“Are you out of your mind?!” I snapped. “You stay here, then that 'somepony under that crane' could be you if it goes over!”

“Nah, really, there was someone under that thing's wheels! Honest!” she protested. “There were sparks flying out from one of the chains, and...”

That was when an alarm bell started ringing in my head. If somepony was cutting through a chain, it could mean trouble. Even so, we couldn't just stand around trying to find a pony who wasn't actually there, so before Babs could finish, I said, “Don't argue, Pear Drop, just move along!” and forced her over to the van.

Once we were all assembled, Tarquin came over looking annoyed once again. “What's the meaning of this, Babs Seed?!” he asked severely. “You were meant to go straight over to the assembly area as soon as Locomotion told you to! Cranes are dangerous pieces of equipment; your dithering could very well have led to you being hurt, and then I would have had to write to your parents saying you had been hospitalised by a falling crane! Imagine how they would have felt about that! Imagine how they would have felt if they'd heard you'd been killed!”

“But Mr Tarquin,” insisted Babs, “there was a unicorn under the crane! He looked as if he was cutting...”

“ENOUGH!” I don't think Tarquin actually intended to use his Megatone, but Babs was really trying his patience. “Any more trouble out of you and I'll have you cut from the film!”

Babs didn't reply to that. She just turned away from the rest of us and sulked. But little did we know just how right she was – in fact, our disregard for her warnings was about to prove a grave error...

Within about half an hour, the wrecking crew had fastened chains around the engine and onto the crane's hook, and with a vigorous clanking and chuffing sound, the crane slowly started to take up the strain, while the rest of us sat back to watch. Shouldn't be too long now, I thought; soon the engine would be back on firm, undamaged rails, ready to go back to the sheds later on, and within the space of a few hours, our train be on its way back to Ponyville. But underneath the crane, where nopony could see, all was not well...

Suddenly, there was a crack from the direction of the wrecking train, and to our horror, the crane jolted to one side, dropping the engine back onto the ballast with a thud. Immediately afterwards, it began to topple over, and Sweetie-Belle was so alarmed that she let out an ear-piercing scream, tears of fright streaming from her eyes. Hardly surprising in my book, because as far as I'm concerned, there's nothing more terrifying than watching a steam-powered 85-ton wrecking crane overbalancing; but my own yell of horror caught in my throat, so I couldn't even shout a warning to the wrecking ponies.

The crane landed on its side with a loud crash, with steam bursting out of the cab – thankfully nothing like the massive explosion most ponies would have expected of such a bulky machine, but still quite a horrific scene. The shock of the whole thing must have been way too much for poor Sweetie-Belle to bear, because as soon as the crash had died down, she just went off in a faint there and then. Immediately Lavender was at her side, trying to bring her round; but I knew that with that crane on its side, this was no time to panic over a shocked filly.

“Come on, guys!” I shouted. “We gotta help! Pear Drop, Golden, come and give me a boost up to that cab!”

Babs and Apple Bloom obeyed without question, but part of me reckons they must have been amazed at my ability to stay in character despite the situation. Thing is, the cameras were still rolling at this point, and Tarquin had been so shocked by the whole thing that he hadn't ordered us to stop acting yet. With both fillies helping me, I scrambled on top of the cab of the overturned crane and peered inside.

“Are you okay in there, mister?” I called to the stallion who had been operating the crane at the time of the accident.

I couldn't see much through the smoke and steam, but I could just make out the crane operator with a hoof against his leg. “No,” he groaned. “My leg's broken and I've got quite a few burns.”

I turned back to the other ponies who had gathered round the crane. “Well that tears it; we're not gonna get him out that easily if his leg's broken,” I said. “Get some water out of the 602's tender, guys! We're gonna need to dowse that fire down!”

Once the fire was out, I sent Rumble off to Delamare to find a paramedic while the wrecking crew cut the rear end of the crane cab open. They soon managed to extricate the injured crane operator, and two doctors arrived shortly after, but there wasn't much we could do about the crane itself until another wrecking crew could be sent up. Tarquin was absolutely furious with this turn of events, and paced about the set while the wrecking crew inspected the damage, muttering angrily to himself in his Megatone. I had never seen him so mad before!

Eventually, he turned and marched up to the forestallion, his face as red as beetroot. “SABOTAGE!” he raged. “SABOTAGE, THAT'S WHAT IT IS! SOMEPONY'S OUT TO TRY AND RUIN MY FILM, I JUST KNOW IT!”

“Well what are you screaming your head off at me for?!” objected the forestallion, trying to hold his nerve.

But Tarquin wasn't listening. “NEVER YOU MIND WHAT, JUST GET THIS MESS CLEARED UP AT ONCE!” he thundered.

“We're doing the best we can, Mr Tarquin,” replied the forestallion, “but you'll just have to wait. We can't do much without heavy equipment.”

With no option but to let the wrecking crews do their thing, Tarquin turned and stormed off to the coach. I could only stand and stare in dismay as the whole thing played out in front of me. Up till that point, I'd always thought, and I quote, that “Tartarus hath no fury like a mare scorned” – but crikey, was I wrong!

“Wow!” I remarked. “This mishap's really getting to him, isn't it?”

“I'll say,” mused the forestallion gravely, “and not without good reason either.”

“How come?”

“One of my ponies has just had a look under that crane,” he explained. “It was sabotage alright; turns out that the anchor chain holding it to the rails had been cut before we started lifting.”

I was absolutely stunned. “WHAT?!” I burst out in shock.

“I'm afraid so,” affirmed the forestallion. “The middle link of that chain looked as if somepony had been through it with a gas-torch.”

Only then did I realise; “So that's why Babs seemed so distracted earlier! I should have known she was trying to tell us something,” I said, feeling like a complete idiot. “Any idea who did it?”

“Not a jot,” admitted the forestallion. “I guess we'll just have to hope that maniac doesn't try the same thing on the other crane.”

I could only agree. One major accident was bad enough, but three? All in the same day?! No wonder Tarquin was in such a deadly temper!

A little later, I went back to the coach to see if Sweetie-Belle had come round yet. As chance would have it, Lickety-Split was just on the other side of the door as I entered.

“How's Sweetie-Belle?” I asked anxiously.

“Still out cold, I'm afraid,” replied Lickety-Split. From the tone of his voice, I could tell that he himself was deeply concerned for her. “That accident must have done an awful number on her.”

“Yeah – except that that was no accident,” I said darkly, and explained what the wrecking crew had discovered.

To say Lickety-Split was rather surprised would be putting it pretty mildly. “So......all this because somepony has tampered with an anchor chain?!” he exclaimed.

I simply nodded in reply.

“So it is something to do with that stallion!” hissed Lickety-Split in sullen anger. “Just wait till I get my hooves on that saboteur! I'll teach him to scare the daylights out of Sweetie-Belle like that!”

Once again, I was rather taken aback; normally Lickety-Split wasn't the sort of pony to become angered so easily. But luckily, I was able to calm him down just as quickly, and instead of brooding over who was responsible for that dastardly act of sabotage, we made our way over to the rearmost compartment of the coach. Sweetie-Belle lay motionless across the seats on one side of the compartment, her eyes closed and her breathing shallow, while Lavender and one of the doctors watched over her. I would have said she'd gone all pale in the face, but since her fur is mostly white in colour, you wouldn't have been able to tell.

“Is she gonna be okay?” I asked the doctor.

“She should be fine by now,” the doctor affirmed. “Her pulse was looking a bit dangerous earlier, but it's already back to normal.”

“Nothing serious, I hope.” Already, Lickety-Split had gone straight back to being worried.

“No, she's just fainted from shock,” replied the doctor. “All she needs is a few days' bed rest, and she'll be as right as rain.”

“How about the crane operator?”

“Plenty of second degree burns, not to mention concussion and a broken leg, but he'll live.”

At that moment, Sweetie-Belle finally came to with a groan. “Ooh...where am I?” she asks weakly, trying to sit upright; but no sooner has she angled herself a few degrees upwards from a reclining position than she starts to sway a little, as if she's going into a relapse.

Lavender responded by gently pushing her back again. “Take it easy, Sweetie-Belle,” she soothed gently. “You're in a bad way.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing too serious,” I explained. “You just went into shock when that crane overbalanced.”

Sweetie-Belle paused, probably trying to remember what had happened. “Yeah, I remember hearing a thud, and then I turned and saw that crane starting to fall over...” but she broke off at that point and started to shed tears. “It was horrible! I thought it would explode and kill us all,” she whimpered, still pretty shaken.

Lickety-Split leaned forwards and hugged her tightly in reassurance. “It's okay, Sweetie-Belle,” he comforted. “It's all over now; everything's going to be okay.”

But by the tone of Sweetie-Belle's voice – and the expression of pure terror on her face – it would be a long time before she fully recovered. She didn't reply immediately, but turned and buried her face in Lickety-Split's shoulder, bawling loudly as she returned his embrace. Knowing full well that those two love-birds needed to be alone, I tactfully turned and left the compartment to see how Tarquin was doing.

Thankfully, Tarquin had cooled off by this time, but he still looked rather agitated. For a moment, I wasn't sure whether or not I should enter his compartment; but the moment he saw me, he wearily beckoned me in, at which point I realised that he too needed a bit of company. With that in mind, I cautiously sidled up to him.

“Tarquin, I'm really sorry that...”

“No, Locomotion,” interrupted Tarquin glumly, “you don't need to apologise for anything. I shouldn't have lost my temper like that; I don't normally do so when my films go wrong, but this act of sabotage was taking it much too far. You and your co-actors did very well to maintain character throughout the ordeal, by the way, and I'm very pleased with you all.”

I nodded modestly. “Yeah, you were quite right about it being sabotage,” I observed. “The forestallion says an anchor chain had been damaged before the crane had started to lift the engine.”

“Just as I had deduced myself,” agreed Tarquin. “I just wish I knew who did it.”

“Well, I'm not entirely sure myself,” I confided, “but I think it could have something to do with...you know that charcoal-coloured stallion who had infiltrated the set on our first day of filming?”

“Yes, what about him?”

“Well, he was trying to tell me that you were a complete box-office flop when in fact you're the best film-maker I could ever know. He even showed me a video of somepony else's work that had a signature similar to yours except for different font and a different second T.”

Tarquin nodded gravely. “Sounds like Take-Two alright.”

That caught me off guard. “You know of Take-Two?” I asked in bewilderment. “But how?”

Before I go on, I should point out that Take-Two is another film-maker from Canterlot, whose films I'm aware of, but don't necessarily watch myself. To be honest, I find the style of those films a bit rubbish by comparison with Tarquin's, and even the plots of those that included trains in them seemed a bit dry. Mind you, last thing I expected was to hear that he and Tarquin had been acquainted with each other.

“Take-Two and I had known each other since we were colts,” explained Tarquin. “We both shared a vision of being among the most successful film-makers the world had ever seen; but while Take-Two had the ambition, he never had the ability to make it a reality. Admittedly, I myself wasn't much better at first, but one day, while setting up for a school play, that was about to change. As we were moving the props into position, I was trying to use my magic on one, but was having little success. Frustrated, I went into a bit of an outburst, saying, 'This is stupid! How can I possibly hope to make movie magic if I can't move a simple prop?!' No sooner had I said 'movie magic', of course, than I heard a loud bang that seemed to come from all directions. I suspected that it must be a teacher coming to see what the matter was, but when I looked up, I noticed Take-Two and the others goggling in disbelief.

“I was rather confused at first, but then one young filly pointed and said, 'Wow, Tarquin, that was brilliant!' I turned around, wondering what she was getting at, and to my amazement, I realised that the whole set was ready – just the way I had envisioned it to be too!”

“And that's when you started using the phrase 'Movie Magic'?” I supposed.

“Indeed so, my boy; the school was so impressed with my abilities that they consistently sought my assistance whenever they put on another play, right up until I moved to high-school. At first, Take-Two was just as impressed as the others, but that admiration gradually turned to jealousy, and he became all closed off and bitter towards me,” Tarquin went on. “It sparked off a rivalry between us, and he even went as far as to try and make me look silly during our last school play before we finished in elementary school. Luckily, one of the teachers caught him out at the last minute, and he was given a week's detention as a punishment.”

The realisation that Take-Two had been plotting against Tarquin long before either pony had begun making films made my blood run cold. “So he was the one who sabotaged that crane?!”

“Not directly; he most likely sent a subordinate out to do the work for him. But yes, it must have been him planning it all along.”

“What do you plan to do about it?” I asked anxiously.

Tarquin paused. “Well, I can't just refer him to the police,” he replied at last. “He could easily turn the interrogation into a lawsuit against me for slandering his production company, and then that'd be my whole film career down the drain.”

“So...does that mean we have to call the whole thing off?”

“Absolutely not – Take-Two may be out to get me, but I'll never let him get his way with this film, not after all the effort I've put into it!” replied Tarquin boldly. “From now on, I shall have to leave no stone unturned, no actors or film crew unscrutinised, and absolutely none of the props unchecked. No matter what, this show must go on!”

Chapter 5: The Chase Is On

It took until the following evening to rerail the engines and clear away the remains of the fallen crane, but Tarquin simply took it in his stride and reworked the script to accommodate the recovery operation where possible. True to his word, he wouldn't let any work continue, filming or otherwise, until he and the wrecking crew had checked that everything was okay, and even recruited the local police to investigate into the mishap. But while the police understood the gravity of the situation, they couldn't find any evidence to suggest that Take-Two was behind this, so the best they could do after that was guard the set against any further sabotage should anypony try the same stunt again.

As evening drew in, the two engines were back on the rails and the track was finally repaired. The 602 hadn't sustained any real damage following the previous day's mishap, but the helper engine was badly twisted round the front, and would need a heck of a lot of repair before it was fit to run again, and in any event, neither engine was in steam by the time the wrecking crew were finished. Another Mustang Class, No. 794, was sent up from Delamare to tow them away to the locomotive works at Hoofington, while “City of Cloudsdale” came down from Ponyville to bring us home.

The next two weeks were pretty trying for me and the others. Filming was suspended during that time, pending an inquiry into the accident with the crane, so we were forced to carry on with our lives as if no film work had been undertaken in the first place. Sweetie-Belle, of course, was still shaken from what she had thought could have been her final moments, so I never saw her again until about five days later.

Diamond Tiara, meanwhile, was most unsympathetic. Whenever she happened to be nearby, all she would talk about was how incompetent Tarquin was (supposedly), and how foolish I was to think I had a chance to make myself known under him. It was an absolute Tartarus, I tell you that much!

Thankfully, after the tenth day of our hiatus, things started to look up for all of us. Not only had Tarquin managed to win compensation for the accident following the inquiry, but the police had agreed to supply a few full-time guards for free, and an article had been published in the local media warning everypony around the chosen filming locations to keep an eye open for saboteurs, with a 15,000-bit reward for anypony with information on them. With our film potentially safeguarded against any further sabotage, we could finally begin shooting again – though not without one final fiasco...

By the end of our two-week hiatus, Sweetie-Belle and the others had pretty much recovered from the ordeal with the crane, so Tarquin arranged for us to gather at Ponyville MPD on the upcoming Tuesday to prepare for the next part of the film, which would include my uncle's engine as he had promised earlier. But to his utter consternation, when we arrived, Lavender Rhapsody was nowhere to be seen.

“I can't understand it,” he kept muttering to himself. “Lavender promised me she'd be here at the sheds at 10am sharp – where the devil could she be?”

“Hanged if I know,” I confessed, shrugging. “I haven't seen her since yesterday evening.”

Noi tilted her head thoughtfully. “Maybe she's just slept in,” she suggested helpfully.

“What, Lavender Rhapsody?!” scoffed Scootaloo in disbelief. “Fat chance of that!”

“No – but there is a chance that those saboteurs could have...well, tried to sabotage her,” Sweetie-Belle cut in. “I thought I heard noises from her room in the hotel last night.”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean anything,” I said reasonably. “She was probably just having trouble finding her hairbrush or something.”

“I wouldn't be so sure of that,” objected Sweetie-Belle. “It was all going on at about two o'clock in the morning. Surely Lavender wouldn't be awake that late, would she?”

Before any of us could answer, we heard the sharp puffing sounds of an engine close by. As we looked towards the sheds, we were horrified to notice the 602 steaming out of the depot, towing four coaches behind it. Now if it had been any other engine, that would have been fine – but that train had been set up for the scene we were supposed to be shooting that day, and the ponies in the cab didn't look anything like a legitimate loco crew. We ran after the train, frantically yelling for them to stop, but to no avail; the pony at the controls just pulled the regulator wide open and accelerated the 602 onto the main line, leaving a scene of confusion in its wake.

“What the hay's going on?!” I exclaimed, unable to make sense of what had just happened. “What's this all about?!”

“That's what I'd like to know too!” added Tarquin, a tone of anger apparent in his voice. “What kind of hooligan would just steal a random engine like this?!”

“Yeah, and where's the 602's driver and firepony?!”

But any further questions were promptly interrupted as High Score, who had noticed something lying on the siding where the 602 had been standing, suddenly called out to us, “TARQUIN, LOCO, COME AND HAVE A LOOK AT THIS!!”

“What is it, Score?!” I called, galloping up to him.

“Looks like they dropped something on the way out,” replied High Score. “Dunno whether it was a schedule or a set of instructions or something, but it mentions your name, Tarquin.”

“Let me see it!” Using my magic, I picked up the sheet of paper to which High Score had been referring just now, and began to read it – but once I had finished, I began to wish I hadn't.

Tarquin came up to me. “What had you found, High Score?”

“It's a ransom note!” I blurted out before High Score could say anything. “Lavender Rhapsody's been foalnapped! Just listen to this!” and I read the note out loud:

Tarquin

You honestly thought you could complete that pathetic waste of time and money you call a blockbuster? Well, you're wrong – always have been, and always will be. Without your precious Lavender Rhapsody, you are nothing.

If you ever want to see her again, you must send 80 million bits to the address overleaf. Do not try and track me down or get the media involved, and make sure you send the money within one week of receiving this letter, otherwise your film star will burn out forever.

Signed
Your Worst Nightmare

There was a long, tense, sort of Life of Brayin' pause. About fifteen seconds passed before Tarquin went into a right tizzy and blurted out, “What am I going to do now?! I can't just pay the ransom – that's about the same as the film budget! If I pay that, I'll be ruined!”

“Not if I can help it!” I said determinedly, before Tarquin's panic attack could get any worse. “They may have got Lavender Rhapsody, but that doesn't mean they've won just yet – not while we have the advantage of speed!”

“What?!” squeaked Rumble. “But that train will easily outpace us! Even I won't be able to fly fast enough to catch them!”

“No,” I pointed out, “but the 'City of Cloudsdale' is in steam. We use that to go after those goons, we'll easily catch them up!”

“But your Uncle Steamer hasn't come yet!”

At first, I was almost ready to go into a panic myself – without Uncle Steamer, we probably wouldn't......no, Locomotion, snap out of it, I thought to myself. If Uncle Steamer wasn't available, then we'd have to take matters into our own hooves. “Then we've no choice!” I decided. “I'll take charge of the engine; Tarquin, can you fire for me?”

“Might be a bit rusty, but I'll do my best.”

“Good – Scoot, Rumble, Tornado Bolt, you ride upfront and keep an extra eye on the track. Be sure to hang on tight though; it could get a bit bumpy in places. Lickety, Sweetie-Belle, Apple Bloom, Babs, High Score, you come in the cab with me and Tarquin – the rest of you go in the coach.”

With that, Tarquin and I scrambled into the cab, followed by Babs, Apple Bloom, Lickety-Split, High Score and a worried Sweetie-Belle. After checking that the three Pegasus foals were hanging tightly onto the engine by their wings, I released the brakes, set the reverser for full forward gear and slowly opened the regulator, carefully driving the massive express engine over the points, out of the depot and onto the open main line.

“Okay, everypony, hold tight!” I warned. “I'm gonna really open her up now!” and I opened the regulator further, enabling the “City of Cloudsdale” to gather speed as we raced after the fleeing foalnappers.

After we had only gone about ten miles, we noticed that part of the track we should have been running on (we were actually running in the Up direction, which is to say, in the direction of Canterlot, but the line we were running along was the Down line, on which all trains headed away from Canterlot are supposed to run) had been torn up – but more importantly, we could see the 602 about ten minutes ahead of us, plodding effortlessly along on the same track as “Cloudsdale”.

“This is it!” I shouted above the roar of the engine, and tugged hard on the whistle chain. That did exactly what I wanted it to; if the villains thought they were in the clear, they would likely have stopped in the middle of nowhere and retreated to wherever their hideout would be. But as soon as I blew the whistle, I could just about make out a fresh plume of smoke and steam blasting out of the 602's chimney as they opened her up and tried to outrun us.

“You don't lose me that easy, you goons!” I thought aloud, turning on full steam. “Come on, 'Cloudsdale' old girl! Don't let 'em get away!”

“Reckon we'll catch them up?” I heard Lickety-Split calling to me.

“We've got to!” I replied firmly. “Lavender Rhapsody's life and Tarquin's film career could well depend on us from here on in! Now get some more coal on the fire, guys – keep the pressure up!”

Tarquin obviously didn't need to be told twice though, for already he was shovelling furiously, trying to maintain as good a fire as he could. For somepony who mainly sat on his haunches, telling his actors and camera crew what they should be doing, he seemed to be doing an outstanding job of it – which is probably more than could be said of the foalnappers, considering how easily we were managing to keep up with them.

From what I heard later, they were absolutely horrified when they saw us coming up behind, and even more so when they realised that we had the better engine. In desperation, they tried everything they knew to get us off their tail, starting with a few sleepers they had picked up after tearing up that bit of track being thrown out from the rear carriage; but Scootaloo easily managed to spot them in time for Tarquin to levitate them out of our way. Talk about lame!

The next attempt, however, was a little bit more of a shock. As I picked up speed again after the fourth sleeper, Rumble calls back to me, “I think we're about to catch them, Loco!”

Leaning out of the cab window, I saw that we were gaining rapidly on the last coach of their train, and for a moment, I thought he was right. But luckily, a sudden realisation hit me before the engine even had a chance to hit the vehicle – they had deliberately uncoupled it! I shut off steam, slammed on the brakes and only just managed to stop a few inches from the coach, which had been brought to a standstill by the automatic brake.

“That was a close one,” I remarked, wiping the sweat off my brow as Tarquin got out and ran forward to couple us up to the stray coach. Mind you, there's no way I could have been the only one who had been shaken by that near miss; Sweetie-Belle in particular was hyperventilating in a bid to pull herself together, and even High Score had a relieved hoof against his chest. But this was no time to relax just yet; as soon as Tarquin had us coupled up, I released the brakes and set off again.

Just a few miles afterwards, the villains tried pushing the next coach backwards into us once they were uncoupled. But once again, the automatic brake caught them out, and we easily managed to avert disaster yet again – though with Babs and High Score watching from the coach in front of us.

As we rounded the next bend, however, Lady Luck nearly threw us off their trail herself. We were approaching a station at this point, and the moment I saw the signalbox ahead, I suddenly remembered that we were on the wrong track – and as if that wasn't enough, the Appleloosan, one of the other expresses that passes through Ponyville, was headed straight for us. Realising with horror that there could soon be a collision, I blew the whistle frantically in warning.

As we closed in on the station, one of the signals changed to green, indicating that we were being diverted onto the Up line. No doubt if you'd been in my horseshoes, you'd have just slammed on the brakes regardless; but I knew that this would be the least sensible thing to do if another train was about to hit us. I had to make for that crossover as fast as I could, before it was too late. Up ahead, I could see the villains swerving out of harm's way, and the massive City Class engine at the head of the Appleloosan pounding towards us, whistling furiously.

“WE'RE GONNA CRASH!!!” screamed Sweetie-Belle despairingly, and ran to take cover in the tender. I too shut my eyes and braced myself for the impact.

Then, with an almighty screech, I felt us veer off the Down line and onto the Up, the Appleloosan just missing the rear of our train. Looking back, I noticed the express speeding along as if nothing had happened, and breathed a sigh of relief. “Wow!” I remarked. “That was even closer than the last one – too close!”

“What are we gonna do now?” called Apple Bloom. “We can't go on forever – supposin' we run into another train?”

And quite right she was too. It wasn't as if anypony knew what was going on aboard the two trains, after all. “We've gotta alert the railway authorities somehow and let 'em know what's going on,” I said, shutting off steam again so we could hear each other talking.

“But how?!” objected Lickety-Split. “If we stop to let anypony off this train, those foalnappers are sure to get away!”

Even in her shaken state, Sweetie-Belle still seemed capable of thinking straight, as I was about to find out. “Couldn't we try doing what sailors do when they send messages?” she suggested.

“What, radio?! How's that gonna help if we ain't got no radio ourselves?” protested Apple Bloom.

“No, I'm talking about when they're stranded on a desert island or something,” insisted Sweetie-Belle. “Don't they usually put a message in a bottle and throw it out to sea?”

That was when I realised – if we did so, we could throw it across to the signalpony at the first signalbox we came to. “GENIUS!!” I burst out jubilantly. “Tarquin, you got a piece of paper handy?”

“Well...yes, actually; I've still got that ransom note Take-Two left us.”

“Good enough. Keep stoking, and I'll write the message.”

So Tarquin immediately resumed his shovelling while I scribbled a fresh note on the back of Take-Two's ransom note:

URGENT MESSAGE FOR E.N.R. PERSONNEL

Foalnappers are fleeing from Ponyville aboard Mustang Class No. 602. They have taken the Sydneigh actress/singer Lavender Rhapsody hostage with the intention of holding her to ransom (see overleaf for further info). We are pursuing them aboard City Class No. 2508 “City of Cloudsdale”, but we need a clear run through to Canterlot and the police to be present for their arrival.

Signed
Locomotion,
Nephew to Driver Steamer,
Ponyville MPD

That done, I placed it in a bottle that happened to be in the tender cupboard and opened the “City of Cloudsdale” up again, keeping a sharp lookout for the next station.

Chapter 6: The End of the Line

Another few miles passed, and we soon found ourselves approaching Fetlockerbie Junction, about a hundred and forty miles from Ponyville in the town of San Fratello. That was as good a place as any to send my message across, I thought, so as soon as we approached the signalbox, I threw the bottle in through an open window with all my might before returning my attention to the line ahead.

As soon as the signalpony had read the message contained in the bottle, he got in contact with headquarters at Canterlot to tell them what was going on with “Cloudsdale” and the 602. Immediately afterwards, the whole railway swung into action; signals and points were reset, trains were halted or sidetracked, and the whole line was cleared for us between San Fratello and Canterbury West Terminus, Canterlot, where the police would be waiting to nab the villains as soon as they got there.

With the comparatively slow speed of the 602, it took until about 7am the following morning to reach the capital. I'm surprised they didn't end up stalling halfway there, to be honest – or, for that matter, that Tarquin and I had been able to stay awake for so long – but at that moment, I was more worried about the fast approaching station. By the looks of it, the goons hadn't realised that they were at the end of the line – quite literally – because while I had the presence of mind to stop, they just kept on going. Only when they approached the platforms did they seem to twig that they were headed for disaster, but by then it was too late.

The area had already been cordoned off by the police, so there were no passengers in the station as yet. Just as well too, for the 602 was still doing about 50 miles an hour as it came to the buffer stops. We could only watch helplessly as it overran the buffers and crashed through the wall at the end of the station, creating a path of destruction for a few yards before finally coming to rest on the station forecourt, battered and worn out. I brought the “City of Cloudsdale” to a halt just behind the last two coaches left on the 602's train, at which point I noticed a dark blue Earth stallion with red-orange mane limping away from them as fast as he could manage.

By the clapper-board with a number 2 on his flanks, I immediately deduced that this must be Take-Two, so I ran after him all the way to a warehouse in the nearby freight yard. Once I was inside, though, I couldn't see him anywhere; crates and barrels stood all around, but other than that, the place seemed empty. Clearly he must have been trying to hide from me.

“Alright, Take-Two,” I ordered fiercely, “come on out! You can't hide forever!”

There was a long silence.

“Show yourself, you blackguard!” I bellowed. “I know you're in there. You've nowhere else to run now!”

Another silence ensued for a few seconds before another, more sinister voice broke it again. “Oh yeah? And how's a snot-nosed little brat like you gonna stop me, huh?”

“Don't kid yourself, Take-Two!” I snapped, with more strength than I actually felt. “You've lost! The whole station's surrounded, and you don't even have Lavender Rhapsody with you!”

“By just one little colt like you?! Go home and play with your train-set, you little runt!” snarled Take-Two, emerging from the shadows.

“And leave you to ruin one of the best film-makers of all time? Not on your life, Take-Two!” I replied defiantly, lowering my head and scraping an aggressive forehoof against the ground.

Take-Two leered at me. “You really think you have a chance against me?! Yeah, wrong!”

“That's rich coming from a pony whose works absolutely suck!”

“Why, you......I'll knock your bucking block off!!!!”

“I'd like to see you try!”

The enraged pony snarled again, this time a lot more threateningly. “Alright, kid – you asked for it!!” and he galloped towards me. But what he didn't realise was that I'd learned a simple but effective forcefield spell, which enabled me to create a protective barrier around myself. Take-Two, on the other hoof, probably wasn't used to magic, because he just charged straight into my barrier regardless – with the result that the only damage he could deal was to himself. He must have been bordering on madness too, for he kept trying and failing to break my forcefield, only to be knocked back each time.

“It's no use, Take-Two!” I scowled at him. “Resistance is futile! You've no choice but to surrender!”

Take-Two flew into a rage at this point. “Oh, so I'm defenceless, am I? Well, let me tell you, you filthy little lump of flesh, you've no way of proving me guilty – no evidence, no testimony, nothing! You may have foiled my attempts to sabotage the film and foalnap your precious Lavender Rhapsody, but nopony – absolutely nopony – would believe an idiotic little beast of burden like you, and neither would anypony actually want an idiot foal taking part in some stupid film about what only adults will ever understand! You are nothing – nothing but a snotty young foal who will never be good for anything!!”

I was enraged – but before I could open my mouth to shout back at him, we heard that familiar bellow of “MOVIE MAGIC!” – and the next thing I knew, we were both on the station forecourt, with a panic-stricken Take-Two screaming his head off in terror, probably from having been teleported so suddenly.

“Well, well, Take-Two,” said a smug voice, “we meet again, I see.”

Take-Two quickly pulled himself together and looked over his shoulder to see who had just spoken to him. “You!” he exclaimed in disbelief.

Yep – you guessed it! Standing behind him, a look of satisfaction on his face, was none other than Technicolour Tarquin.

“Awfully sorry to put an end to your joyride so soon,” he smirked, “but the police and I have a bushel to pick with you. Firstly, we'd like to know how it was that you thought you could get away with such...such heinous crimes.”

“Have you been listening to that fibbing pile of filth you call your star performer?!” demanded Take-Two defensively.

“And you can mind your manners too,” added Tarquin in deadpan. “That 'pile of filth', as you so crudely put it, does have a name, after all, so I'd be a great deal happier if you called him Locomotion, thank you so very much! And another thing – there's no way he could have lied about you slandering my company, sabotaging my sets and props, and certainly not about foalnapping a certain singer-cum-actress named Lavender Rhapsody. You the one who wrote out that ransom note, after all; I'd recognise that messy scrawl anywhere.”

“And I suppose you have it right with you?”

“Well......no,” replied Tarquin, clearly feigning defeat.

“Then why are you accusing me of something I didn't do if you've no evidence against me?!”

“Because the signalpony at Fetlockerbie Junction does, for a start,” I pointed out, prompting a look of mirth on Tarquin's part.

“Yes, and also, I would have thought you'd have realised before spouting all those insults at young Locomotion here that we already have a certain other witness to prove it,” he added.

“What other witness?!” objected Take-Two angrily. “What the hay are you talking about, you brainless liar?!”

“Call me what you like,” countered Tarquin, without raising his voice, “but as a fellow film-maker like you can testify, 'the camera never lies'. In fact, I'm feeling a little generous right now, so I'll tell you what I'll do – I'll treat you all to my favourite part of my latest film.”

And what a film it was too – once the police are all gathered round the camera, he winds back the film and repeatedly plays back the bit with Take-Two admitting to his crimes before slamming me like a mistreated cupboard door. Only then did I realise that while I had been having it out with Take-Two, Tarquin had secretly been filming the whole thing!

“So, Take-Two,” he asked smugly once he was done playing back the film, “where are you going now?”

But after seeing what pretty much accounts to his demise, Take-Two was at a complete loss for words, and just stood there with his mouth hanging open. It was priceless, I tell you – priceless!

“I'll tell you where you're going,” went on Tarquin. “You're going for a nice, long holiday – behind bars.” He then turned to the police; “Okay, officers, take him away.”

And so, baying and swearing in fury, Take-Two was dragged away to the waiting police cart. I tell you what, after what he said to insult me, I couldn't be more glad to see the back of him. “Well,” I chuckled, “I doubt we're gonna get any trouble out of him again. Good call, Tarquin!” and I gave him a triumphant hoof-bump.

“My pleasure,” smiled Tarquin heartily. “I knew he wouldn't get away with foalnapping Lavender Rhapsody like that – especially with a budding young engine driver like you on my side. Well done indeed.”

I smiled back, but suddenly remembered the main reason we had gone after the 602 in the first place. “Hang on,” I burst out, almost ready to panic, “what about Lavender?! She's not hurt, is she?!”

“I'm fine, Locomotion – just a few cuts and bruises, that's all.”

I swung round, startled, but quickly relaxed when I saw Lavender Rhapsody standing right behind me. She had sustained a black eye from the sudden sharp impact, and her right front leg was all bandaged up, but apart from a few minor cuts, I couldn't see anything wrong. “Aw, thank Celestia you're okay, Lavender,” I sighed with relief.

“Just about,” she replied, “but if it hadn't been for you and your friends, Locomotion, it could have been a lot worse. You've not only saved my life, but Tarquin's film career as well.”

“Indeed,” agreed Tarquin. “Thank you so much, Loco – if it hadn't been for you, life wouldn't have been worth living. My film company would have been ruined, my reputation would have been permanently tarnished – heaven knows, I wouldn't even have had...”

“...a pony that you could call your fillyfriend?” I asked innocently. Part of me kinda wished I hadn't, to be honest, because Tarquin just went all quiet and turned his head away, as if trying to hide a blush. “You don't need to hide it from me,” I soothed. “I won't judge you for it, and neither will I make a big thing about it in the media – I promise.”

Only then does Tarquin start being honest about the whole thing. “In that case...yes, I'm most relieved to still have you as part of my life, Lavender my dear,” he said softly, and nuzzled her gently. It was such a sweet sight to behold, and even Scootaloo seemed moved by it all. Can't understand how Scootaloo of all ponies would find it cute, though – maybe it was because of all the time she had spent with Rumble or something.

So anyway, after all the palaver that had started at ten o'clock the previous morning, Tarquin chartered a special train to take us back to Ponyville, consisting of a dining car and a couple of sleeping cars. “City of Cloudsdale” was in a weary state after all that hard non-stop running – and having been awake for twenty-four hours myself, I'm hardly surprised – so they brought out the first of her class, No. 2500, “City of Canterlot”, to pull our train instead, while “Cloudsdale” was towed back to Canterbury Common MPD for minor running repairs before following suit; but as for the 602......well, there's no way we would have been able to make any further use of that any time soon. The poor engine was so badly damaged from the collision that it would take a full overhaul at Hoofington Works to get it back in operation again.

We arrived home at about three o'clock the following day. The story of our adventure, of course, had reached Ponyville long before we did, so when the “City of Canterlot” pulled into Ponyville Central Station, we found a massive crowd of ponies standing on the platform – in fact, I think the whole town had come out to greet us! I alighted from the train to a hero's welcome, and the cheering townsponies carried me on their shoulders all the way to Sugarcube Corner, where Pinkie Pie had thrown a massive hero party for me.

In retrospect, it was incredible to think that I was the one who had saved the day, according to Tarquin and the others. Prior to all that, I'd not had that much experience at actually driving a steam engine; and yet, guided purely by intuition, I had handled the “City of Cloudsdale” so well that I'd completely foiled Take-Two's half-baked plot against Technicolour Tarquin and everything he stood for – and all this just by fulfilling my dream of driving a real steam locomotive on the main line. It really humbled me to know that my expertise on railways alone had enabled me to bring Take-Two to justice and save Tarquin's film company from an untimely end. But as far as I'm concerned, the real hero of the day was none other than my Uncle Steamer's trusty Equestrian National Railways City Class No. 2508, “City of Cloudsdale” herself; if it hadn't been for her, I would never have been able to thwart Take-Two and his lackeys.

After another month, during most of which Tarquin and I were up at the High Court of Canterlot for jury duty regarding Take-Two, we were finally able to resume filming. This time, there wasn't a single act of sabotage carried out on set, and by mid-autumn, Tarquin had got all the shots he wanted and was able to take them to the studio for editing.

Our lives pretty much went back to normal after that, though there was a great deal of speculation among me and my co-actors about the final cut of the film. Oddly enough, Diamond Tiara no longer seemed to be looking down on us like some noblepony on a group of peasants – in fact, whenever any of us who starred in the film happened to be around, whether it was me, Lickety-Split, High Score or even the Cutie Mark Crusaders, she remained respectfully silent. Still, I wasn't going to let her off the hook that easily...

Epilogue

A few weeks later, my co-stars and I were gathered at the Town Hall with our friends and family and countless other ponies for the première of “Battle of the Griffins”. The event was hosted by none other than Technicolour Tarquin himself, who made a proud speech about the film before showing it to pony eyes for the very first time. As Sweetie-Belle's sister Rarity said at one point, that movie was a real “tour de force”; the music was brilliantly composed, the scenes were very well edited, and our characters were wonderfully well played. It gave me a great sense of achievement, especially when I noticed how well everypony else appeared to have taken to my characterisation.

When at last the film ended and the lights came back on, the whole audience cheered loudly, and some even threw flowers in the direction of me and my co-stars. I found all this praise and attention so overwhelming that I didn't know what to think, but I still enjoyed it a great deal, and didn't care that Diamond Tiara wasn't even acknowledging me.

“Thank you,” announced Tarquin, stepping forward again. “Thank you very much, fillies and gentlecolts. You've all been a wonderful audience, and I sincerely hope it was a wonderful film you've all been watching.” (As if he needed to say that! All his films are wonderful in my book.) “I'll be here all week; be sure to tip your waitresses.”

I couldn't help but chuckle as I watched him rear back and raise his arms into the air. Having already spoken to him about Diamond Tiara the day before, I had a pretty amusing idea of what might be coming next...

“MOVIE MAGIC!” boomed Tarquin, and a cloud of smoke burst up from around him as if he was going to teleport. But instead of vanishing, he remained right where he was, smiling in an awkward manner as if he had messed it up.

Diamond Tiara smirked broadly as if she were about to make a rude remark, but her insult was instantly drowned by raucous laughter from the rest of the audience. Only then did I realise what Tarquin had done – he had magicked an ill-fitting rabbit costume onto that snob, thus making her look so ridiculous that even Filthy Rich, her father, couldn't help laughing. Secretly, Tarquin gave a hearty chuckle of his own, and winked broadly at me, a gesture that I immediately returned in kind.

The film was a huge hit throughout Equestria – not only did it win massive returns for Tarquin and his crew and actors, myself included, but it put Ponyville Motive Power Depot on the map and made quite a name for me any my friends. For a long time afterwards, visiting ponies would stop me in the street and say, “You're that pony who starred in Technicolour Tarquin's latest film, aren't you?”, “Your name wouldn't happen to be Locomotion, would it?” or “Hey, I remember you from 'Battle of the Griffins'!” I have to say, it was really nice to have achieved such fame so quickly, and if Tarquin ever asks me to star in another one of his films, I'd be delighted to accept; but my life has always been devoted to the railways and everything they stand for, so I was happiest of all to be back in Ponyville MPD, tending the engines just as I had always done.

I still clean the engines and carry out odd jobs around the depot when needed, but the Superintendent was so impressed with my handling of the “City of Cloudsdale” that, just a week after the film's release, he promoted me to trainee firepony. Much of my time on shed nowadays is spent firing the depot pilot, Hayseed Class 0-6-0 tank engine No. 5118, under the tutelage of Driver Top Notch and his regular firepony, Anthracite. Just another wrung on that long and arduous ladder to becoming part of a mainline locomotive crew, and one day crossing the cab to become a driver in my own right. It may be that, soon enough, I get to fire the “City of Cloudsdale” on a run from here to Trottingham or Fort Maine, alongside my Uncle Steamer. Who knows?