The World is my Layout [Worm AU/Alt Power]
- Thread starter GeneralPatt1000
- Start date
I would like to Request a train from an anime. Big one from Galaxy railways If at all possible
galaxyexpress999.fandom.com
Big One
Big One is an SDF steam locomotive that appears in the Galaxy Express 999 spinoff show The Galaxy Railways, it's sequel and the GE999/TGR spin off series, Letter From The Abandoned Planet. Big One is painted in the typical livery given to its basis. The number on its tender is the number 001, a...
My inner Adeptus Astartes approves the overarmed, overarmored train engine.You know what would be awesome?
Bring in the Trailmons and the Locomon line from Digimon.
I mean, who wouldn't want a train like THAT
(That's Battle Armament Trailmon btw)
I do hope that Taylor gets this so that way she is prepared for an Endbringer's war on Brockton Bay.
Oh no, if we're gonna go full-on combat trains, then lets be classy about it. After all, I'm certain these fine gentlemen would love a chance to escape the roundhouse for a bit and fire up the old guns, after all.
900 miles by Lord_of_Admirals (Non-canon)
New
A/N A little story crossposted from SB. Posted with permission from @GeneralPatt1000. Inspired by this story and Leslie Fish's Grain Train. With some help from just my general love of all things train. I might make more to this later on.
Air hissed as the Amtrak commuter pulled into Penn Station to a large crowd building on another platform, Taylor sighed as she stepped off the train. Everytime one of her trains has a layover they show up, they never buy anything, only ever making a hassle for her actual paying riders. Rushing over to the crowded platform where her fast freight was waiting for her, shoving through the mob with help from her railway cops she leapt onto one of her old Pullman 6-6 heavyweights. One of her cops gave a whistle as a pair of them followed after her, the rest splitting between the baggage and RPO cars behind.
Minutes later another train pulled in beside theirs as the signal cleared and with a whistle of his own the engineer set off, spraying the crowd with the cylinder cocks as he did so. Well behind schedule due to waiting for her, even before Amtrak decided to be late getting there, they were re-classed a non-stop express to Brockton; and by god the Mint's not going to be happy that they're flying through Boston with their cash, but the State's gotten an idea how to skim more money and they've decided to enlist the PRT to help them and she needs to be there in person for some godforsaken reason.
As the massive Texas roared Northbound towards the coast, thundering over switches as they cut ahead of angered commuter trains; not that they cared, they were now one of the highest priority trains on the system. Nobody really likes the PRT, and dispatch was more than happy to help her fight them; even if indirectly. Switches set and signals green they were free to run as they pleased, and Taylor found herself thinking back to the last time someone in government tried to screw her over.
2014, a year people will remember; as the year the county went to war against the railroad, and lost.
The mayor of Brockton got together with some members of Essex county to try and extort more money from the railroads, which after the big buyout with Amtrak and the MBTA basically meant only her, some tiny short lines, and some old defunct tracks everyone kind of used once in a while but no one actually owned. They started with sanctions and new charges for land usage, doubling, then tripling prices by the week.
By the end of that month they'd driven the short lines to bankruptcy and drove the last stretch of Amtrak out; she was the only one able, and willing, to pay up in the county; for now at least.
Then they started trying to get their hands on her stock and land. Everyday she was hounded to sell her trackage for pennies and drop her prices, all the while raising their fees; trying to bleed her dry.
She fought legally every step of the way of course, but it didn't help; not when they had the cops in their pockets. So she stepped up recruitment in return, her ranks filled rapidly with disgruntled vets who had a grudge; and she threatened discontinuing service if they didn't back off.
It didn't work. Her lawyers bought off, and laws pushed through to give them more power. It was clear she wasn't going to win this fight.
But neither were they.
She put a plan into motion, buying land and negotiating track usage over the end of July and into August. Though she thought she'd still had a few weeks to finalise it, it turns out she had underestimated their stupidity and malice.
August fifth, oh-four thirty-seven. Brockton is woken as the Nightlight Express from Boston derails on a crossing outside the main station downtown. The damage was severe as the train slammed into the station platform and surrounding buildings as the coaches buckled and bent from the force, one of them was actually sent airborne from the sheer force. The station was all but destroyed after one of the impacted buildings collapsed onto it, another two were deemed uninhabitable because of the wreck. Following the slow response of the under-staffed and funded fire department to contain the fires that broke out from the two diesels and the cars they ran over, recovery began.
Seventy-eight dead.
Seventy-eight men, women, and children were dead because these men wanted some more money in their pockets. Before the dust had even settled she'd already called in the NTSB, and by god was she glad she did.
The first team arrived in Boston before the day's end by plane, boarding a special charter train she'd set up to take them into Brockton overnight. Having slept on the train the team set to work in the morning using the cars she left as a mobile office, having taken the long route they now sat North of the wreck to let the recovery crews work easier. Photos were taken and notes written, but it was as car seven was lifted from the crossing that they really kicked into a frenzy. For what lay under the savaged car was a split rail, but that wasn't too unusual given the severity of the crash. What was unusual was how the split was found.
Cemented into the crossing.
Those fucks had cut the rail and cemented it into the centre pad, then wired it so the signals wouldn't notice the break.
Just two inches was enough to cause all of this death and destruction.
Honestly, when I was told what they found, I didn't even let the man finish his report before I gave the order to execute my plan. I hated to do it to my home city, but they forced my hand; Dad agreed with me that we had to before they did something more drastic. So I gave the order, Essex county was cut off, every single one of my trains will not stop anywhere in the county; all passenger and freight services were cut off, the mail only ran for a few more weeks out of contractual obligation alone.
The NTSB had issued their report of sabotage mere hours before I'd issued my own statement of cancellations of services due to corruption and sabotage from the local government, and just like that the county was cut off from all rail service. She pulled everything out and just left them with the fruits of their labor.
They lasted almost three months before the public finally had enough, weeks of protest turned into full riots as the masses stormed the government buildings. Fed up at the trains not coming through, at the mail not coming in, packages, goods, and food not coming into the city; the stores sat empty as not enough things were being shipped, the trucks just couldn't keep up; and the people had enough.
They stormed the doors and dragged the mayors, the politicians, and the councilmen into the street, beaten, bruised, and bloody. The men were given a choice; stop their games and let the railroad work again, or they would get to have another talk.
Needless to say they caved pretty quickly, and rapidly withdrew their laws and policies. And four days later a train three miles long rolled down the lines again, much to the cheers of the public.
She still has those pictures from the NTSB, even has a couple of them framed on her wall; an aerial picture of the crash site displaying the sheer carnage, and one of the shredded remains of P-1248, a modified Heavyweight, with one of its frame rails sticking straight up. She likes to use them as reminders for people on why you don't take people at their word, and why you always check things yourself.
She got complacent with how things were, never again she vowed.
She'd won against the county, and now the State and the PRT wanted a piece. They wanted to invoke Nepea5, bending the rules to fit for a company not run by a Para; it's a shame they were never going to win that battle.
She'd talked with dad over the phone on her way to New York, and they figured it was time for some more serious action. They'd talked it over with their union leaders on her trip into Brockton, and they agreed that if the State pushed too much that they would back them in a strike. And Taylor knew that if they all striked, then the nearby Amtrak and CSX lines would follow in solidarity with them; and who knew if the other line workers would follow in their tracks. The State didn't like a Parahuman department head in their railroad?
Then let's see how they'll handle having no railroads.
Air hissed as the Amtrak commuter pulled into Penn Station to a large crowd building on another platform, Taylor sighed as she stepped off the train. Everytime one of her trains has a layover they show up, they never buy anything, only ever making a hassle for her actual paying riders. Rushing over to the crowded platform where her fast freight was waiting for her, shoving through the mob with help from her railway cops she leapt onto one of her old Pullman 6-6 heavyweights. One of her cops gave a whistle as a pair of them followed after her, the rest splitting between the baggage and RPO cars behind.
Minutes later another train pulled in beside theirs as the signal cleared and with a whistle of his own the engineer set off, spraying the crowd with the cylinder cocks as he did so. Well behind schedule due to waiting for her, even before Amtrak decided to be late getting there, they were re-classed a non-stop express to Brockton; and by god the Mint's not going to be happy that they're flying through Boston with their cash, but the State's gotten an idea how to skim more money and they've decided to enlist the PRT to help them and she needs to be there in person for some godforsaken reason.
As the massive Texas roared Northbound towards the coast, thundering over switches as they cut ahead of angered commuter trains; not that they cared, they were now one of the highest priority trains on the system. Nobody really likes the PRT, and dispatch was more than happy to help her fight them; even if indirectly. Switches set and signals green they were free to run as they pleased, and Taylor found herself thinking back to the last time someone in government tried to screw her over.
2014, a year people will remember; as the year the county went to war against the railroad, and lost.
The mayor of Brockton got together with some members of Essex county to try and extort more money from the railroads, which after the big buyout with Amtrak and the MBTA basically meant only her, some tiny short lines, and some old defunct tracks everyone kind of used once in a while but no one actually owned. They started with sanctions and new charges for land usage, doubling, then tripling prices by the week.
By the end of that month they'd driven the short lines to bankruptcy and drove the last stretch of Amtrak out; she was the only one able, and willing, to pay up in the county; for now at least.
Then they started trying to get their hands on her stock and land. Everyday she was hounded to sell her trackage for pennies and drop her prices, all the while raising their fees; trying to bleed her dry.
She fought legally every step of the way of course, but it didn't help; not when they had the cops in their pockets. So she stepped up recruitment in return, her ranks filled rapidly with disgruntled vets who had a grudge; and she threatened discontinuing service if they didn't back off.
It didn't work. Her lawyers bought off, and laws pushed through to give them more power. It was clear she wasn't going to win this fight.
But neither were they.
She put a plan into motion, buying land and negotiating track usage over the end of July and into August. Though she thought she'd still had a few weeks to finalise it, it turns out she had underestimated their stupidity and malice.
August fifth, oh-four thirty-seven. Brockton is woken as the Nightlight Express from Boston derails on a crossing outside the main station downtown. The damage was severe as the train slammed into the station platform and surrounding buildings as the coaches buckled and bent from the force, one of them was actually sent airborne from the sheer force. The station was all but destroyed after one of the impacted buildings collapsed onto it, another two were deemed uninhabitable because of the wreck. Following the slow response of the under-staffed and funded fire department to contain the fires that broke out from the two diesels and the cars they ran over, recovery began.
Seventy-eight dead.
Seventy-eight men, women, and children were dead because these men wanted some more money in their pockets. Before the dust had even settled she'd already called in the NTSB, and by god was she glad she did.
The first team arrived in Boston before the day's end by plane, boarding a special charter train she'd set up to take them into Brockton overnight. Having slept on the train the team set to work in the morning using the cars she left as a mobile office, having taken the long route they now sat North of the wreck to let the recovery crews work easier. Photos were taken and notes written, but it was as car seven was lifted from the crossing that they really kicked into a frenzy. For what lay under the savaged car was a split rail, but that wasn't too unusual given the severity of the crash. What was unusual was how the split was found.
Cemented into the crossing.
Those fucks had cut the rail and cemented it into the centre pad, then wired it so the signals wouldn't notice the break.
Just two inches was enough to cause all of this death and destruction.
Honestly, when I was told what they found, I didn't even let the man finish his report before I gave the order to execute my plan. I hated to do it to my home city, but they forced my hand; Dad agreed with me that we had to before they did something more drastic. So I gave the order, Essex county was cut off, every single one of my trains will not stop anywhere in the county; all passenger and freight services were cut off, the mail only ran for a few more weeks out of contractual obligation alone.
The NTSB had issued their report of sabotage mere hours before I'd issued my own statement of cancellations of services due to corruption and sabotage from the local government, and just like that the county was cut off from all rail service. She pulled everything out and just left them with the fruits of their labor.
They lasted almost three months before the public finally had enough, weeks of protest turned into full riots as the masses stormed the government buildings. Fed up at the trains not coming through, at the mail not coming in, packages, goods, and food not coming into the city; the stores sat empty as not enough things were being shipped, the trucks just couldn't keep up; and the people had enough.
They stormed the doors and dragged the mayors, the politicians, and the councilmen into the street, beaten, bruised, and bloody. The men were given a choice; stop their games and let the railroad work again, or they would get to have another talk.
Needless to say they caved pretty quickly, and rapidly withdrew their laws and policies. And four days later a train three miles long rolled down the lines again, much to the cheers of the public.
She still has those pictures from the NTSB, even has a couple of them framed on her wall; an aerial picture of the crash site displaying the sheer carnage, and one of the shredded remains of P-1248, a modified Heavyweight, with one of its frame rails sticking straight up. She likes to use them as reminders for people on why you don't take people at their word, and why you always check things yourself.
She got complacent with how things were, never again she vowed.
She'd won against the county, and now the State and the PRT wanted a piece. They wanted to invoke Nepea5, bending the rules to fit for a company not run by a Para; it's a shame they were never going to win that battle.
She'd talked with dad over the phone on her way to New York, and they figured it was time for some more serious action. They'd talked it over with their union leaders on her trip into Brockton, and they agreed that if the State pushed too much that they would back them in a strike. And Taylor knew that if they all striked, then the nearby Amtrak and CSX lines would follow in solidarity with them; and who knew if the other line workers would follow in their tracks. The State didn't like a Parahuman department head in their railroad?
Then let's see how they'll handle having no railroads.
- Location
- Seattle area
I randomly discovered this today as I was reading through Lord_of_Admirals snippet thread on SB. I encouraged him to copy it over here. It really made my day. I hope you all enjoy it.
- Location
- Usa
Nice to see something new on This story. This is one of the more fun wormmstories I have read and thanks for sharing this.
I'm glad to see some more of this story, it's quite enjoyable!
Darth Cooter
(Verified Lord of Cooters)(Dark Proprietor)(AP)
- Location
- error -loc root/users/dcooter not found
Ohh I'm so happy additional content has been posted for this story. I enjoy feel good Taylor stories like this one. Please, Please Please continue it!
Chapter 4.6
New
- Location
- Seattle area
Author's Note:
I did not expect to have a new chapter ready within a week of discovering the above snippet. I must thank Lord_of_Admirals again for writing it. It really encouraged me to get working again. So in order to encourage faster updates, I encourage you all to think up possible omakes. I will just ask that anything of substance you run by me first so I can determine if its canon or not. I will be happy to work with you guys directly if you seek to make a canon omake. We can just set up a google doc or something to work on anything you want to create.
Anyway, I am sorry for the long wait. I hope you all enjoy this latest chapter of The World is my Layout.
This chapter was beta read by lokijones
Chapter 4.6
Wildbow owns Worm
September 1st
3:30 pm
The Roundhouse
When Taylor appeared in her avatar form, she found Stan Vickery watching two projections in medical outfits wheel Sherrel Bailey towards the new clinic on a gurney, despite her protests that she could "move herself just fine". Taylor giggled at the sight, startling Stan from his observation.
"Good afternoon Mr. Vickery! I see you're taking in the new sights around here. What did you think of my performance earlier?"
The veteran reporter frowned as he considered the events of the past few minutes. "I must admit that the spontaneous hovering buildings came as a surprise. I was aware it could be done with locomotives after hearing about the battle the other night but it hadn't fully sunk in." His contemplative frown turned into a grin. "It was most impressive. I can't wait to see what else you can do, Dispatcher."
Taylor's face spawned a wide, happy smile. "Just wait till you watch me wake up Lily Pons! That will make your viewers really sit up and take notice." Taylor's eyes shifted to the immaculate Mountain-type locomotive that sat in the back shop not too far away. "Sherrel certainly did a good job cleaning Lily up. She just needs a thorough inspection before I do anything serious with her." Her vision shifted again, this time over to the clinic, "I intended to speak to Miss Bailey before awakening the locomotive, but maybe it would be a better idea to have her at the event. We can do both things at once." She shouted to the medical projections, who were just about to wheel their patient in the new building. "Hey guys! Bring her over to the shed. I wanna speak to her here."
The projections turned the gurney and Sherrel could be heard protesting some more. Before long she was presented to Taylor and Stan. She looked up at them grumpily, "What's going on here? I thought I was being taken in for rest and recuperation." Taking notice of Taylor's ethereal form, some of her mood went away. "You must be the cape in charge of these guys. Dispatcher, right? I gotta thank you for the rescue. I wasn't sure how long I could survive on my own, going through withdrawal like I am."
Taylor nodded, "You're most welcome. I'm glad my people were able to help you, though they weren't exactly out looking for you. They were exploring the rails throughout the Docks and Boat Graveyard. They found a lot of things that we can use. Such as yon engines," she said, motioning towards the huge chunks of steel sitting nearby.
For the first time since the conversation began, Taylor saw Sherrel Bailey's expression break out into a grin, "They are great ain't they. I love them both, but especially Lily. The whole time I was working on her, I felt like she was watching over me, like her spirit was there on my shoulder. My power can't wait to get at her internals in case she needs a rebuild."
"And in your opinion, does she need one to start her up? I'd like to wake her up today if at all possible," Taylor replied.
Sherrel waggled her hand, "Well, I can't say anything for her boiler, but everything external I could get at has been cleaned, as well as her smoke box and firebox. Still, she was sitting there with no water in her system so she's probably not rusted up or anything inside. I'd say she is safe for at least a test firing."
"Good," Taylor nodded happily, "I'll have some hoses stretched from the washing shed so we can fill her boiler up and some coal brought from Roger to help fire her."
Taylor sent two mental commands, first to the washing shed for a hose and secondly to Rogers' Rangers in the Roundhouse, though this was more of a proper communication.
Dispatcher to Rogers' Rangers, How copy?
Loud and clear Milady. Replied the locomotive's spirit. Do you have orders for me?
Yes I do. Please bring yourself over to repair sheds. We're going to wake up Lily Pons. Not only do we need some of your coal to do that, I thought you might like to be present.
That sounds excellent ma'am. I shall be along presently.
Thank you Roger!
While this was going on, the former villain seemed to be considering Taylor's ghostly form closely. A long cheerful blast from the steam engine's whistle seemed to break her from her thoughts and brought Taylor back to the present.
"I was really surprised to find out this operation was being run by a kid," she suddenly announced. "I don't mean to mock ya, but isn't it a lot to manage? Why not wait until you're older?" Sherrel asked.
And there it is. I knew it was coming, so let's just get it out of the way.
Aloud she replied in a somewhat cold voice, "I didn't really have a choice Miss Bailey. Seeing as I was in that car you crashed into just over a week ago, along with my mother." As Sherrel's face paled in remembrance of the event. Taylor continued, her voice unchanging, "Mother had a broken leg, a broken arm and bruised ribs, among other minor injuries. I received only a broken leg." She wiggled one of her ethereal legs. "You can't see it in this form of course."
Behind her, Taylor could hear Stan scribbling on a notepad, but she paid him no mind. This conversation required her whole focus. "You can imagine my consternation when my people told me about your discovery in the depths of the Boat Graveyard. On the one hand," she said, waving one about, "I was angry and wanted to show my displeasure to the greatest possible extent. On the other hand," she continued, waving said appendage, "I wanted to forgive you, after hearing your own story and feeling sorry for the state you were in, having run away from Skidmark."
Sherrel was still a bit pale, but a little color was beginning to return to her face. "And what did you decide? What tipped the balance? Why have you not turned me over to the PRT?" she inquired, knowing that she was in very hot water.
Taylor sighed, letting some of her coldness ebb away, "I must admit, the tip in your favor is how useful you could be to my operations here." She gave Sherrel a weak smile, "I know it's a bit mercenary of me, but there's multiple points of view to the situation. Not only can you help out around here, maintaining locomotives and such but you can also work off your debt to society without going to jail. If you agree to work with me, not only will you be free to tinker relatively freely, but you will have free room and board and a paycheck once the company gets off the ground. Matter of fact, I'm prepared to offer you the Head of Maintenance position."
Hope blossomed on Sherrel's face and warred with disbelief. "You're offering me a job? Despite what I did to you and your family?"
"Yep." Taylor smiled as hope defeated disbelief. "Of course, getting you through your withdrawal symptoms will be our number one priority. That's what the clinic is for. Once you are recovered, I'll let you start working on things around here. You will have no contact with Skidmark, he'll be off to prison hopefully. The PRT will want to keep in my good graces so they'll not bother you. You'll be able to get back on your feet with honest work and an honest paycheck." Taylor held out a hand to the woman who had run down her family's car. "So, what do you say?"
Sherrel reached out without hesitation. "You got a deal, Dispatcher. Thank you for this opportunity." The pair shook hands, but before Sherrel could release Taylor's hand, her own was clenched harder by the younger cape. She froze, staring into Taylor's eyes as the girl stared back at her.
Taylor leaned close and whispered to the captive former villain, "Understand me Sherrel Bailey. This is your only chance. If you betray me, I will throw you to the PRT so fast, you'd think that a high-speed train was your method of transport. I am willing to give you this chance to help rehabilitate you, but I do not like you and I doubt I ever will. Perhaps you will gain my respect one day, but do not think it will come soon. You got me?"
Sherrel visibly gulped and she nodded quickly, "Yes Ma'am. Understood loud and clear."
Taylor stood up, releasing the woman's hand and smiled widely, "Good! Now, let's get your friend awake. Roger should be here momentarily. Here come the hoses now."
A couple of projections came running up to the group standing around in front of the Lily Pons, both helping to haul a heavy hose. They opened the boiler cap of the Mountain-type locomotive and fed the hose into it a little ways. One of the projections saluted and called out to Taylor, "The hose is rigged and ready to water the engine, Dispatcher."
"Very good," Taylor said, "Let the water flow." The command was given, the valve was opened and water gushed forth into the engine's boiler. A long note from a 3 chime whistle alerted the group to Rogers' Rangers approach. The Heavy Pacific locomotive had rotated itself on the turntable, causing him to approach the shed head on. As they turned to face the oncoming engine, it came to a stop about 50 feet from the gathered party.
As steam began to pour from the various release valves, an older man in a Revolutionary War uniform stepped down from the cab of the steam engine. His white sideburns and mustache and kind blue eyes framed his face, while a wig and a conductor's cap sat on his head. He showed only a little ghostliness compared to other projections, a thin light blue sheen surrounding him on all sides.
"Good day lass. How are you doing this fine afternoon?" Roger asked while strolling up to them.
"Doing well Roger. Sherrel has just agreed to join our operation!" Taylor beamed.
"Well done! I pray that ye will grow into our little family without too much trouble lassie." Roger exclaimed, looming over Sherrel and shaking her hand.
"Y-y-yeah." Sherrel was obviously feeling a little out of her depth and a little intimidated at the same time as she said, "Can we get a move on? I want to meet Lily."
"Certainly," Taylor nodded and motioned a couple projections over to Rogers's cab, "Grab some start-up supplies and some coal, would you guys? Medics, can you wheel Miss Bailey alongside Lily Pons please while we get ready?"
While Taylor's minions scurried around getting things ready for the Mountain's first firing, Stan walked up to Roger's avatar and attempted to begin an interview. "I'm Stan Vickery, an independent reporter. You claim to be the spirit of the steam locomotive called Rogers' Rangers. How does that work in this world of parahuman powers?"
The avatar rounded on Stan in surprise, not expecting the man to start interrogating him. But before Roger could respond, Taylor replied, "Hold your horses there, Mr. Vickery. We're kinda in the middle of something. Don't worry, you'll get your interview. Just wait until we get Lily up and running."
Stan grumbled, but apologized for his haste and promised to hold Dispatcher to her promise.
The supplies were gathered, and the boiler of Lily Pons filled. Taylor ascended into her cab, which was just as immaculately clean as her exterior and opened the firebox. After laying down a bed of coal she threw in some logs and then some kindling. Picking up a rag and soaking it in oil, she spoke to the group gathered outside. "Be prepared for anything folks. This is only the second time I've done this."
Not waiting for anything else, Taylor lit the rag with a zippo and tossed it into the midst of the kindling. It caught fire immediately. She held her breath, waiting to feel her power supply the needed boost for Lily Pons to awake. As the fire spread to the logs, it hit her all once. It was almost giddy in its feeling, the rush of power and energy almost causing her to black out in its intensity.
She almost missed the beginning of the avatar forming, but she focused her eyes on it sharply, as a beautiful woman garbed in some kind of opera costume took shape beside her. Taylor could pick out the sound of Stan's pencil and notepad throughout the event. After perhaps 15 seconds, the avatar was complete. She wavered on her feet for a moment but quickly gained her balance.
"Welcome to the land of the living, Lily Pons. My name is Dispatcher. How do you feel?" Taylor asked.
The avatar looked down at herself, twirled in a circle and let her dress fan out in all directions for a moment. Smiling, she let out a short soprano note, which was weakly echoed by her steam whistle. "I feel alive, mademoiselle. Is this how it feels to breathe freely like any man or woman?"
"Yep." Taylor said, taking Lily by the hand, "Come on, let me introduce you to some folks. Sherrel and Roger ought to be first in line I think."
I did not expect to have a new chapter ready within a week of discovering the above snippet. I must thank Lord_of_Admirals again for writing it. It really encouraged me to get working again. So in order to encourage faster updates, I encourage you all to think up possible omakes. I will just ask that anything of substance you run by me first so I can determine if its canon or not. I will be happy to work with you guys directly if you seek to make a canon omake. We can just set up a google doc or something to work on anything you want to create.
Anyway, I am sorry for the long wait. I hope you all enjoy this latest chapter of The World is my Layout.
This chapter was beta read by lokijones
Chapter 4.6
Wildbow owns Worm
September 1st
3:30 pm
The Roundhouse
When Taylor appeared in her avatar form, she found Stan Vickery watching two projections in medical outfits wheel Sherrel Bailey towards the new clinic on a gurney, despite her protests that she could "move herself just fine". Taylor giggled at the sight, startling Stan from his observation.
"Good afternoon Mr. Vickery! I see you're taking in the new sights around here. What did you think of my performance earlier?"
The veteran reporter frowned as he considered the events of the past few minutes. "I must admit that the spontaneous hovering buildings came as a surprise. I was aware it could be done with locomotives after hearing about the battle the other night but it hadn't fully sunk in." His contemplative frown turned into a grin. "It was most impressive. I can't wait to see what else you can do, Dispatcher."
Taylor's face spawned a wide, happy smile. "Just wait till you watch me wake up Lily Pons! That will make your viewers really sit up and take notice." Taylor's eyes shifted to the immaculate Mountain-type locomotive that sat in the back shop not too far away. "Sherrel certainly did a good job cleaning Lily up. She just needs a thorough inspection before I do anything serious with her." Her vision shifted again, this time over to the clinic, "I intended to speak to Miss Bailey before awakening the locomotive, but maybe it would be a better idea to have her at the event. We can do both things at once." She shouted to the medical projections, who were just about to wheel their patient in the new building. "Hey guys! Bring her over to the shed. I wanna speak to her here."
The projections turned the gurney and Sherrel could be heard protesting some more. Before long she was presented to Taylor and Stan. She looked up at them grumpily, "What's going on here? I thought I was being taken in for rest and recuperation." Taking notice of Taylor's ethereal form, some of her mood went away. "You must be the cape in charge of these guys. Dispatcher, right? I gotta thank you for the rescue. I wasn't sure how long I could survive on my own, going through withdrawal like I am."
Taylor nodded, "You're most welcome. I'm glad my people were able to help you, though they weren't exactly out looking for you. They were exploring the rails throughout the Docks and Boat Graveyard. They found a lot of things that we can use. Such as yon engines," she said, motioning towards the huge chunks of steel sitting nearby.
For the first time since the conversation began, Taylor saw Sherrel Bailey's expression break out into a grin, "They are great ain't they. I love them both, but especially Lily. The whole time I was working on her, I felt like she was watching over me, like her spirit was there on my shoulder. My power can't wait to get at her internals in case she needs a rebuild."
"And in your opinion, does she need one to start her up? I'd like to wake her up today if at all possible," Taylor replied.
Sherrel waggled her hand, "Well, I can't say anything for her boiler, but everything external I could get at has been cleaned, as well as her smoke box and firebox. Still, she was sitting there with no water in her system so she's probably not rusted up or anything inside. I'd say she is safe for at least a test firing."
"Good," Taylor nodded happily, "I'll have some hoses stretched from the washing shed so we can fill her boiler up and some coal brought from Roger to help fire her."
Taylor sent two mental commands, first to the washing shed for a hose and secondly to Rogers' Rangers in the Roundhouse, though this was more of a proper communication.
Dispatcher to Rogers' Rangers, How copy?
Loud and clear Milady. Replied the locomotive's spirit. Do you have orders for me?
Yes I do. Please bring yourself over to repair sheds. We're going to wake up Lily Pons. Not only do we need some of your coal to do that, I thought you might like to be present.
That sounds excellent ma'am. I shall be along presently.
Thank you Roger!
While this was going on, the former villain seemed to be considering Taylor's ghostly form closely. A long cheerful blast from the steam engine's whistle seemed to break her from her thoughts and brought Taylor back to the present.
"I was really surprised to find out this operation was being run by a kid," she suddenly announced. "I don't mean to mock ya, but isn't it a lot to manage? Why not wait until you're older?" Sherrel asked.
And there it is. I knew it was coming, so let's just get it out of the way.
Aloud she replied in a somewhat cold voice, "I didn't really have a choice Miss Bailey. Seeing as I was in that car you crashed into just over a week ago, along with my mother." As Sherrel's face paled in remembrance of the event. Taylor continued, her voice unchanging, "Mother had a broken leg, a broken arm and bruised ribs, among other minor injuries. I received only a broken leg." She wiggled one of her ethereal legs. "You can't see it in this form of course."
Behind her, Taylor could hear Stan scribbling on a notepad, but she paid him no mind. This conversation required her whole focus. "You can imagine my consternation when my people told me about your discovery in the depths of the Boat Graveyard. On the one hand," she said, waving one about, "I was angry and wanted to show my displeasure to the greatest possible extent. On the other hand," she continued, waving said appendage, "I wanted to forgive you, after hearing your own story and feeling sorry for the state you were in, having run away from Skidmark."
Sherrel was still a bit pale, but a little color was beginning to return to her face. "And what did you decide? What tipped the balance? Why have you not turned me over to the PRT?" she inquired, knowing that she was in very hot water.
Taylor sighed, letting some of her coldness ebb away, "I must admit, the tip in your favor is how useful you could be to my operations here." She gave Sherrel a weak smile, "I know it's a bit mercenary of me, but there's multiple points of view to the situation. Not only can you help out around here, maintaining locomotives and such but you can also work off your debt to society without going to jail. If you agree to work with me, not only will you be free to tinker relatively freely, but you will have free room and board and a paycheck once the company gets off the ground. Matter of fact, I'm prepared to offer you the Head of Maintenance position."
Hope blossomed on Sherrel's face and warred with disbelief. "You're offering me a job? Despite what I did to you and your family?"
"Yep." Taylor smiled as hope defeated disbelief. "Of course, getting you through your withdrawal symptoms will be our number one priority. That's what the clinic is for. Once you are recovered, I'll let you start working on things around here. You will have no contact with Skidmark, he'll be off to prison hopefully. The PRT will want to keep in my good graces so they'll not bother you. You'll be able to get back on your feet with honest work and an honest paycheck." Taylor held out a hand to the woman who had run down her family's car. "So, what do you say?"
Sherrel reached out without hesitation. "You got a deal, Dispatcher. Thank you for this opportunity." The pair shook hands, but before Sherrel could release Taylor's hand, her own was clenched harder by the younger cape. She froze, staring into Taylor's eyes as the girl stared back at her.
Taylor leaned close and whispered to the captive former villain, "Understand me Sherrel Bailey. This is your only chance. If you betray me, I will throw you to the PRT so fast, you'd think that a high-speed train was your method of transport. I am willing to give you this chance to help rehabilitate you, but I do not like you and I doubt I ever will. Perhaps you will gain my respect one day, but do not think it will come soon. You got me?"
Sherrel visibly gulped and she nodded quickly, "Yes Ma'am. Understood loud and clear."
Taylor stood up, releasing the woman's hand and smiled widely, "Good! Now, let's get your friend awake. Roger should be here momentarily. Here come the hoses now."
A couple of projections came running up to the group standing around in front of the Lily Pons, both helping to haul a heavy hose. They opened the boiler cap of the Mountain-type locomotive and fed the hose into it a little ways. One of the projections saluted and called out to Taylor, "The hose is rigged and ready to water the engine, Dispatcher."
"Very good," Taylor said, "Let the water flow." The command was given, the valve was opened and water gushed forth into the engine's boiler. A long note from a 3 chime whistle alerted the group to Rogers' Rangers approach. The Heavy Pacific locomotive had rotated itself on the turntable, causing him to approach the shed head on. As they turned to face the oncoming engine, it came to a stop about 50 feet from the gathered party.
As steam began to pour from the various release valves, an older man in a Revolutionary War uniform stepped down from the cab of the steam engine. His white sideburns and mustache and kind blue eyes framed his face, while a wig and a conductor's cap sat on his head. He showed only a little ghostliness compared to other projections, a thin light blue sheen surrounding him on all sides.
"Good day lass. How are you doing this fine afternoon?" Roger asked while strolling up to them.
"Doing well Roger. Sherrel has just agreed to join our operation!" Taylor beamed.
"Well done! I pray that ye will grow into our little family without too much trouble lassie." Roger exclaimed, looming over Sherrel and shaking her hand.
"Y-y-yeah." Sherrel was obviously feeling a little out of her depth and a little intimidated at the same time as she said, "Can we get a move on? I want to meet Lily."
"Certainly," Taylor nodded and motioned a couple projections over to Rogers's cab, "Grab some start-up supplies and some coal, would you guys? Medics, can you wheel Miss Bailey alongside Lily Pons please while we get ready?"
While Taylor's minions scurried around getting things ready for the Mountain's first firing, Stan walked up to Roger's avatar and attempted to begin an interview. "I'm Stan Vickery, an independent reporter. You claim to be the spirit of the steam locomotive called Rogers' Rangers. How does that work in this world of parahuman powers?"
The avatar rounded on Stan in surprise, not expecting the man to start interrogating him. But before Roger could respond, Taylor replied, "Hold your horses there, Mr. Vickery. We're kinda in the middle of something. Don't worry, you'll get your interview. Just wait until we get Lily up and running."
Stan grumbled, but apologized for his haste and promised to hold Dispatcher to her promise.
The supplies were gathered, and the boiler of Lily Pons filled. Taylor ascended into her cab, which was just as immaculately clean as her exterior and opened the firebox. After laying down a bed of coal she threw in some logs and then some kindling. Picking up a rag and soaking it in oil, she spoke to the group gathered outside. "Be prepared for anything folks. This is only the second time I've done this."
Not waiting for anything else, Taylor lit the rag with a zippo and tossed it into the midst of the kindling. It caught fire immediately. She held her breath, waiting to feel her power supply the needed boost for Lily Pons to awake. As the fire spread to the logs, it hit her all once. It was almost giddy in its feeling, the rush of power and energy almost causing her to black out in its intensity.
She almost missed the beginning of the avatar forming, but she focused her eyes on it sharply, as a beautiful woman garbed in some kind of opera costume took shape beside her. Taylor could pick out the sound of Stan's pencil and notepad throughout the event. After perhaps 15 seconds, the avatar was complete. She wavered on her feet for a moment but quickly gained her balance.
"Welcome to the land of the living, Lily Pons. My name is Dispatcher. How do you feel?" Taylor asked.
The avatar looked down at herself, twirled in a circle and let her dress fan out in all directions for a moment. Smiling, she let out a short soprano note, which was weakly echoed by her steam whistle. "I feel alive, mademoiselle. Is this how it feels to breathe freely like any man or woman?"
"Yep." Taylor said, taking Lily by the hand, "Come on, let me introduce you to some folks. Sherrel and Roger ought to be first in line I think."
Honorguard Ra
(Verified Lizard Dude)
That was Good! Lily Pons lives, Sherrel is on board, and Stan is behaving himself. Happy to see this story update! Thanks for sharing.