[Gift] The 11th Hour | Fireworks

The long summer festival was coming to an end. Food stalls turned out their lights, shelves now bare of fruit and fried bread. Games were finally packed away, and livestock made quiet, settling noises as the deep blanket of night swept over the festival grounds. The merrymakers spread themselves out, waiting as a single person with a lantern lit a fuse on a not-too-distant hill.

Explosions of light and color rocked the night sky. Oohs and aahs trailed from the gathered festival goers, a smattering of applause.

There was one viewer who hadn’t been invited.

Spark watched the fireworks with a more discerning gaze. The Sparknest—those geysers of light and color—were far more impressive than what these humble humans had cooked up. But there was something here that it lacked: an opportunity.

As the humans cheered for the fireworks in full bloom, Spark watched as they first shot up into the sky, trailing smoke and ash, screeching the entire while. There was a terrible amount of potential energy, the second that lit fuse hit the powder inside and the firework shot for the sky but hadn’t yet fully exploded.

The long, tense line of him went bowstring taut, and before he even heard the shrill whistle of the next firework launching, Spark was off, a yellow and cyan streak in the dark, halo lighting the way as he tackled the now-rogue explosive out of the air.

He wrested it, used all the Stormy wiles within him to delay the inevitable BOOM! while his Thunderous nature gorged on the energy in his metal hands, pulling it into himself until he’d inevitably taken too much time, too much of that potential force, and the firework went from an inevitable explosion to a certified dud.

Satisfied and feeling full, Spark allowed the firework to loll from his hands and fall to the ground, and he settled in a nearby tree to watch the rest of the display.

It was pretty, even if it had no further use.