#raggghhhhh

*poses sexily*

He's flying down the tracks of the mainland at dangerously high speeds flying past Gordon on his take back of the morning express with a flash of mustard. a look of surprise turns to horror as he sees seven other frames of burgundy race down the tracks. the gaggle of newer modern diesels chase him like a pack of wild rabid dogs, cackling with a sick joy. There deep red paint shines off of them in a mocking manner.

He's almost there. Hes almost at the bridge that leads to the island, wheels spinning so fast sparks of flame rush out from under him, the smell of melting metal heavy in the air. He can't go on for much longer. They all know that.

The pain in his body is agonizing as pinchy snaps wildly, trying to keep them as far back as possible. He's wheezing like all the air is squeezed out of him, trying to keep distance. They've been going like this for a half an hour, and he's not sure he can take anymore before something gives.

Hey there!