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A loud bang cut through the silence in the McCoy family shed. Rusty had returned home after work at last, and today had not been a very joyous day for the steamer. It had all started off decently! He'd been doing his usual work, shunting freight, just in a good mood, humming some little tunes to himself to keep busy and entertained during work. But when had it all gone so wrong?
The sun was already beginning to set when Rusty was about to finish up the last little bit of work for the day. Just a few minutes left until he could go home! Rusty had just finished his last trip for the day, heading back to the station to wrap up, but that was exactly where misfortune had struck. Much to his dismay, Greaseball and his goons had just pulled into the station, seemingly looking to cause trouble like they always did. Loud laughing, arguing and chatter began to fill the station as they pulled in. The engines tended to be very loud, especially this bunch of diesels.
Rusty knew exactly what'd happen if they noticed him. A wave of fear rushed over him as he tried to get out of sight, trying to rush towards the side, hoping to avoid them as best as he could. But of course the steamer ended up not being that lucky. Trying to squeeze past some engines, he unfortunately bumped into one of the terrifying black diesel engines. Crap! Rusty winced, apologizing profusely, as he tried to continue pushing past, knowing full well that if he stopped, it'd be over for him.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going, steam train??"
One of the diesel engines voices echoed through the station, and Rusty could feel heads turning to stare at him, which made him freeze in his spot. He'd been found. Oh man was he in a world of trouble now.
"Look, he's trying to run away after bumping into someone. That's not very nice isn't it, steam train?"
A crowd began forming around him, backing him into the wall right behind him, large diesels surrounding him, taunting him and threatening him now. Rusty swallowed hard, frantically looking around to see if he could spot an escape route. It seemed pretty much hopeless, until he found the tiniest little gap between two particularly large and muscly gang members. Gathering all of his courage, Rusty now took a little sprint forwards towards that gap, hoping and praying that these guys were too slow to catch onto what he was intending to do.
But before he knew it, Rusty was already getting shoved, making him topple right over and fall backwards onto the ground, the back of his head painfully colliding with the floor, some coals toppling out of his burner. Rusty winced, trying to pry himself off of the floor as fast as he could, trying to get out of this situation in a timely manner.
"I'm sorry- I didn't mean to!- But... I really have to go now!"
He replied, his voice sounding panicked as he forced himself back onto his wheels. The steam engine had just barely regained his balance when the Diesel engines rolled closer again, a set of hands behind him shoving him again, while one on the left threw a punch to his shoulder, managing to produce a sizable dent. Rusty once again lost his balance, the diesels now continuing to shove him around from side to side, seemingly enjoying taunting him like they did. The steamer let out a choked little sob. He didn't understand what he had done to deserve this. Why was it always him getting a beating? Why would they never target any other railfolk?
Over time the shoving and punching got much worse. Rusty once again toppled over, but forwards this time, immediately getting greeted by a harsh kick to the stomach, more kicks to his side and a well aimed punch right to the face. Unsurprisingly that last punch managed to take him out entirely. At first there was pain. Then he felt blood gushing from his nose and his lip. And then suddenly it all went black. Whatever happened after this, Rusty was not sure. That was only for the diesels and the security cameras of the station to know.
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It was already nighttime when Rusty regained consciousness. The station was empty. He had been left here, all on his own, entirely passed out, with no help. No one had cared. That stung more than the kicks and punches earlier had.
Rusty slowly got up, off of the floor, moving to stand up straight again, but he was quite wobbly on his wheels, feeling like his legs might give out any minute. Looking down on himself, he saw that blood had dribbled all over his chest, staining his gear. The blood had dried down by now, so it'd be a hell of a job to get those stains out again. Rusty cursed himself out silently. Fuck... If only he hadn't run into them, if only he had taken a different escape route...
The steamer felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, the hot, searing pain and the disappointment he felt, starting to overwhelm him. When would it finally stop?
He choked out yet another sob, kicking a barrel of oil that stood nearby, but wincing directly after as pain shot through his leg. He had to get home, and he had to get home now. Preferably unseen.
Rusty slowly began making his way back to the McCoys shed where he lived with Momma, Poppa, Dustin, Flat Top, Caboose and the Rockies. They all shared one big shed in the freight yard like a big family. It was nice to live around so many people, but in cases like these, where he just wanted to be on his own, it was quite the curse. There was almost always someone awake in that shed, During the day both Momma and Poppa were around, and during nighttime Flat Top and the Rockies were out and about in the shed usually.
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When Rusty arrived at the shed today, it was unusually quiet. It seemed like almost everyone was asleep. Even the light in Flat Top's room was out, it seemed like the Brick truck had an early start this morning. So when the shed door snapped shut behind him, Rusty was quite hopeful not to run into anyone.
He slowly limped over into the kitchen to go wash his hands which were covered in his own blood and dirt from the floor that he had been so harshly shoved onto. The warm water and soap helped get off some of the dried down dirt and the warmth somewhat helped against the pain. He then tried to scrub off some of the stains on his gear, but with not so much success. He'd have to ask Momma for help with fixing this tomorrow, but now he just wanted to go to his room and cry himself to sleep. With the day he'd had, who could blame him for it?
Rusty switched off the light in the kitchen again, rolling towards the living room. His bedroom happened to be connected to the living room, just on the other side of the shed so he had to roll across to get to it. What he had however missed, was that the living room happened to be occupied right now. He had already stepped into the room when he'd noticed the flickering lights of the TV. Fuck. Seemed like someone was awake after all. But maybe Rusty could sneak past if he just tried hard enough.
There he went, slowly and quietly rolling towards his room. That was until one of the floorboards creaked loudly, making him stop dead in his tracks.
That was when he noticed someone perk up on the sofa. It was a very familiar silhouette, a distinctly green colored box car staring back at him, eyeing him up and down.
"Rusty. I thought you were asleep already. What's going on? Are you alright?"
The green box car asked, getting up from his seat to roll closer and properly inspect his sibling. Rusty tried to back away instinctively.
"I'm... I'm okay, don't worry. Just fell on the tracks. It's nothing..."
He tried to explain. He knew full well that anyone with any form of medical knowledge would be able to tell that this was not just a simple fall on the tracks. And lord knows, Rocky 3 had seen him beat up before and knew that a fall would not have looked like this.
"Rusty... It's not nothing. I can tell it's not. You look like shit, affectionately. Did they beat you up again?..."
The green hopper sighed, running a hand over the very pronounced dent in his brother's shoulder.
Rusty wasn't sure how to answer. He didn't want to admit it out loud, he didn't want to give them that satisfaction. But yet, what was he supposed to say? That they did, and that he was left all on his own, passed out and bleeding? It felt bad even thinking about that.
The steam engine just shrugged, biting his bruised lower lip, trying to look away in shame, but there it was again, tears beginning to well up in his eyes once more. He tried to turn away so Rocky 3 couldn't see that the tears had begun to roll down his cheeks. He clenched his fists, a tiny sniffle escaping him.
Rusty hadn't answered the question, but the answer was obvious. Rocky 3 rolled closer towards Rusty now, arms wrapping around his brother to offer him some comfort. Fuck, next time he met any of those stupid gang members, it was on sight. They couldn't keep getting away with hurting Rusty.
"I'm sorry Rusty... You don't deserve any of this. Those knobheads need to be reported. I'll help you file a complaint tomorrow, yeah? We'll also get you to the repair shed when Poppa's awake. We've got you"
The box car offered, only for it to be met with a weak nod by Rusty. That was good enough. He already seemed overwhelmed enough with the situation anyway. The best Rocky 3 could do now, was to help him calm down and get ready for bed, and to help clean him up a bit.
"Let's head to the bathroom. We'll get you some clean clothes and let's clean that blood off of you, sound good?"
That was met with another nod, so Rocky 3 carefully began guiding Rusty over towards the bathroom. Once in there, he'd helped guide Rusty to sit on the ledge of the bathtub, telling him to hold onto the sink for stability. Rocky was busy getting out all the medical supplies to help treat some of Rusty's wounds now, cleaning them at least, so they wouldn't get infected. The green box car started on cleaning up his brother's face with a warm, damp washcloth, careful to wipe away all of the dirt, the blood and his remaining makeup. Once that was all done, he noticed a little cut on his jaw that was bleeding a little. He proceeded to carefully clean the cut, then covering it with a band aid for now. Rusty's nosebleed had subsided by now, thank the starlight, but his split open lip was still giving him a bit of trouble. Rocky 3 promptly also cleaned this spot, inspecting it further. Luckily it wasn't deep enough to require stitches.
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The two of them had spent a considerable amount of time in the bathroom together to get Rusty all cleaned up. It was nearly 3am now. Rusty had finally shed his stained gear, swapping it out for a clean t-shirt and some sweatpants, which was his go-to sleepwear set anyway. He felt a lot better now. Less grimey and a whole lot more cared for.
Rocky 3 made sure to bring Rusty all the way into his room, accompanying him to make sure that he was alright.
Sitting down on his bed, Rusty let out a sigh, hands folding atop his lap, gaze stuck to the floor.
"Thank you.... Thank you for being here. You were the only person who cared today..."
He began, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Don't mention it. You're my big brother. I can't just let you suffer on your own. I'm here for you Rusty. I might be annoying sometimes, but when it comes down to it, you can always count on me. Don't you worry. You're not on your own. Ever. You mean the world to us. We'll make sure those diesels regret ever putting their hands on you, hm?"
Rocky 3 spoke, giving Rusty's uninjured shoulder a gentle squeeze.
"Rest up now, Rusty. You need to recover. I'll sign you off of work for tomorrow. It'll all be okay again. We'll make this right!"