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Gearbox's gleaming yellow and black metal frame loomed over the trembling coaches, the bangs of her mullet casting an ominous shadow over her eyes. "Come on, ladies, don't be shy," Gearbox purred, her voice dripping with predatory desire. "I just want to have a little fun."
The coaches huddled together quivering. One brave dining car spoke up, her voice shaky. "P-please, Gearbox. Leave us alone!"
Gearbox's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Now, now. That's no way to talk to an engine." She reached out a massive hand, caressing the blue and white dining car's side. "I think you’ll do“
The coaches tried to shove Gearbox away, their smaller frames straining against her weight. But it was like trying to move a mountain for them. Gearbox barely budged, chuckling at their feeble attempts. "Hah! That tickles," she taunted. "Is that really the best you can do?"
Panic rose in the coaches' eyes as they realized how powerless they were. Gearbox savored their fear. This was the thrill she lived for - complete dominance over these coaches. she could push them, shove them, force them to do anything she wanted. Even if they didn’t want to because soon they would learn her little ways.
"Now, which one of you pretties wants to go for a ride first?" Gearbox leered, her hands roaming possessively over Dinah’s couplers.
“Leave her alone you brute!!“ It was Tassita and he was quite loud for a quiet car.
A thunderous shout echoed through the yard as Greaseball burst onto the scene, his massive diesel frame vibrating with fury. The sight of Gearbox pawing at the terrified coaches made his cylinders fire with rage. "Get your filthy hands off of them, Engine #2024!" he roared, charging forward like a freight train on a downhill grade.
Gearbox barely had time to turn before Greaseball's fist connected with her jaw. The impact reverberated through her frame, rattling her circuits. "What the hell, Greaseball?" she snarled, staggering back. "This ain't your business!"
Greaseball's eyes were blazing in anger. "I'm making it my business, you bitch!!" he growled, landing a crushing blow to Gearbox's midsection.
As they grappled, Greaseball's mind raced. How could anyone treat the coaches this way? They were not mean to be abused by some predatory locomotive with more horsepower than sense.
"You think you're so tough, picking on smaller rolling stock?" Greaseball taunted, ducking under Gearbox's wild swing. "Why don't you try someone your own size?"
Gearbox lunged, but Greaseball was ready.
He seized her arm, using her momentum to slam her against an intermodal container. The impact left a Gearbox-shaped dent in the metal. He had not thought about the consequences of smashing the container but his anger had a vicegrip on him at the moment. "Listen up, Gearbox," Greaseball snarled, pinning the dazed locomotive. "This ends now. You don't touch the coaches. You don't even look at them funny. They say stop it or leave me alone. You stop it and leave them alone. Got it?"
Gearbox's eyes flickered, her systems struggling to recalibrate after the beating. "Y-yeah," she mumbled. "I got it."
Greaseball released her, watching as she slunk away with a wounded pride as her perverse game had been ruined. As he turned to face the coaches…his powerful prime movers thrummed with residual adrenaline, and he could feel the heat radiating from his frame after the intense fight. "You all alright?" he asked again, his voice softer now, a stark contrast to the thunderous roar of moments ago.
The coaches, still huddled together, seemingly afraid of him.
Greaseball felt a sudden wave of self-consciousness wash over him as he realized how intimidating he must look to them - a towering engine with the strength to toss another locomotive like that. “I…“ The words stuck in his throat as he tried to reassure them that he wasn’t dangerous. That the display of strength that has just happened would not be used against them. But the scared eyes of the coaches cut him deep. “I don’t… I couldn’t let that highlighter yellow engine..” he managed, his massive form shrinking under their gaze. “I won’t hurt you..“
A tense silence hung in the air, broken only by the sound of the distant rumble of other engines working in the yard.
Then Tassita took a small step forward. His bright teal and orange frame contrasted sharply with Greaseball's black paint job. The fear seemed to drain from their eyes. It was replaced with something else - something that looked a lot like admiration. "We… we're okay," he stammered softly, his voice barely audible over the thrum of Greaseball’s idling motors. "Thank you, Greaseball. Who knows what #2024 would have done to us if you hadn’t shown up like that."
Tassita’s gratitude was like a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. It calmed his racing mind, made him feel better about what he'd just done. He wasn't a bully or a predator like Gearbox. He was a protector to these coaches. "Listen, if she ever comes near you again," he started with a stern seriousness, "You let me know right away, alright?" he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "I’m just doin' what any decent engine would do..."
Belle the sleeping car rolled forward, she petted the neck pillow she wore. The reflective Z’s on it catching the light from Greaseball’s eyes. "But not every engine would do what you did," she said softly, placing a delicate hand on Greaseball's arm. "You're our hero…"
"I, uh..." he stammered, suddenly feeling a lot like a certain clumsy steam shunter. "I'm just glad you're all safe. Can't have some low-life harassing such beautiful rolling stock, now can we?"
The coaches giggled, a sound that made Greaseball's cylinders sire a little faster and he found himself grinning.