SAMSON & THE FIREWORKS

Samson and Bradford, with a line of trucks between them, rolled over the Vicarstown Bridge from the mainland onto Sodor. As usual, Bradford was barking orders.

"Remember, Samson, we're going to the Blue Mountain Quarry! No funny business!" Samson grimaced.

"I know, Bradford, I know. No need to tell me so often."

"I need to, boyo. We must be vigilant and not let a single thing distract us from our mission!" Samson raised an eyebrow.

"We're just collecting stone from the quarry for some station renovation on the mainland-"

"Dalton, Samson. Just beyond Barrow-in-Furness. Never forget your destination." Samson sighed dully.

"Yes, Bradford, but anyone could do it. Nothing special."

"Every job we do is important, Samson, no matter what! Now, keep your eyes on the track or we'll cause an unspeakably horrific accident!" Samson sighed and looked ahead to the approaching Vicarstown station. At the back of the train, Bradford glared at a seagull that was perching on a truck.

"According to the official railway rulebook, birds are not allowed on rolling stock!" The sound of Bradford's loud voice startled the seagull, and it quickly flew away. Samson frowned as he pulled into Vicarstown.

"Didn't know that was a rule…" he muttered. He slowed down as he spotted Rosie shunting some flatbeds with crates on them. "Hello, Rosie!" he called cheerily.

"Oh, hi, Samson," Rosie called back, clearly forcing herself to sound as pleasant as possible. Samson was too intrigued by the crates to notice.

"What have you got there, Rosie?" he asked as he rolled alongside.

"Oh. These are just the fireworks for the Earl's annual firework display tonight at the castle." Samson's face paled.

"Did you say f-fireworks? T-Tonight?" Rosie raised an eyebrow.

"Yes…? It's for Bonfire Night. Is something wrong, Samson?" she asked. Samson smiled sheepishly.

"Oh, no, no, nothing's the matter, Rosie! Just a few very loud bangs, what's not to love?" Rosie, now more suspicious than ever, was about to reply when Bradford, who was starting to sense that Samson was uncomfortable, cut her off.

"Enough nattering, Samson, we're running thirty-two seconds late!" the brake van shouted, "We'll have to hurry as fast as we can if we're going to make up for all that wasted time! As long as it's under the speed limit, of course." Samson looked nervously at the crates Rosie was shunting.

"B-But, Bradford, the-"

"They can't hurt you from inside those crates, which, by the way, better be properly secured." Bradford glared at Rosie, who rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Bradford. Perfectly secure."

"Very well. Now, Samson, let's go, move it, move it!" Samson sped up and hurried out of the station, leaving a baffled Rosie behind.

As Samson and Bradford made their way to the Blue Mountain Quarry, a thick fog rolled in over the island. Samson soon found it difficult to see where he was going.

"Er, Bradford? Maybe, just as a suggestion, we should turn around and head home?" he asked meekly.

"Out of the question, Samson. Fog may be dangerous, as outlined in the official railway safety guideline manual, but if we keep our wits about us, and don't get lost, we will be just fine." Samson scoffed.

"I know my way to the quarry, Bradford. I just… don't want to stay too long, that's all." Bradford's perpetually stern expression softened.

"I know you don't want to see those fireworks, but if we keep to schedule, we'll be long gone before any of them make a sound. Rest assured, boyo, there are no loud noises at the quarry." Samson smiled nervously.

"Right. Thank you, Bradford." Samson, with more of his usual confidence, continued onward to the quarry.

When he arrived, Rusty and Luke were cautiously shunting trucks into sidings. Samson whistled as he came to a halt and waited patiently for the stone to be loaded into his trucks.

"Hello, everyone. Happy to see you all again." Rusty and Luke shared a look. Rusty cleared their throat.

"Erm, it's just us, Samson."

"Oh. I was, uh, hoping there'd be more of you in the fog. Never mind, two is better than none. At least some of you will be able to-" A loud, sudden explosion interrupted Samson as the sound echoed around the quarry. Samson gasped in horror.

"W-What was that?!"

"Oh, that? We're just blasting at the quarry today," Rusty explained. Bradford narrowed his eyes at the little diesel.

"Blasting? In the fog? It's not my jurisdiction, but-"

"We're always very careful," Rusty put in, "We set up the dynamite before the fog rolled in, so there's no chance of an accidental rockslide." Samson's eyes widened.

"D-Dynamite?!" Samson started to panic as the rocks tumbled into his trucks. He whistled and started hurrying away, screaming.

"You promised there weren't any loud noises, Bradford! You promised!" he wailed.

"I didn't know these devious little engines were such rule breakers!" Bradford called back as Samson dragged him out of sight. Luke raised an eyebrow at Rusty.

Meanwhile, on the rest of the railway, the fog was causing problems for the other engines, as they could hardly see an inch in front of them. Thomas squinted into the fog as he rolled into Knapford station with his branch line train. However, the fog was so thick that he didn't see that his signal on the gantry above was red. Suddenly, Thomas heard a loud whistle - ahead was Douglas, coming towards him with his own train.

"Watch out, Thomas!" Douglas cried. Thomas slammed on his brakes on, coming to a stop just before the points. Thomas opened his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Donald!" he called, not being able to see the number on the tender and making a guess, "I didn't see the red signal!" Douglas rolled his eyes.

"Douglas, laddie. Number ten. Just make sure ye're looking where ye're-" Before he could finish, he gaped as puffing towards him was a light-engine Emily. Douglas and Emily each slammed on their brakes, but couldn't stop before lightly bumping into each other.

"Where on earth did ye spring from, lass?" Emily smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry, Douglas. Didn't see where I was and ended up here." Douglas glared back at Thomas.

"See, the lass gets my name right!"

"Look out!" exclaimed a voice. Everyone watched in horror as Rebecca appeared from the fog, desperately trying to brake but not succeeding. She banged into the back of Emily, who bashed into Douglas. Thomas winced at the sound of the impacts.

"Oops… Sorry!" Rebecca called as everyone looked at her.

The situation with the fog was becoming so bad that the Fat Controller called a meeting in the shunting yard.

"Now, it's becoming increasingly apparent that something has to be done about this fog. We've had some very close calls, and I'd rather not have any accidents today. So, to help us out, I've enlisted the help of an old friend." He gestured to beside him, and out of the fog stepped an old man in a brown coat and cap. Thomas gasped excitedly.

"Cyril!" Most of the engines in the crowd looked at Thomas in confusion, as they'd never heard of him. Cyril the Fogman waved to Thomas before pulling out a strange-looking device from behind his back.

"This is a fog detonator. We'll be using these to warn you if you're coming up to a signal, or some other obstruction." Cyril placed a detonator on the track in front of Philip.

"Now, I need one of you to demonstrate." The engines glanced at Philip, who looked nervously down at the detonator.

"M-Me? Why me?"

"Because you're in front of it, Philip," Gordon retorted dully.

"Go on, Philip, it won't hurt! It just makes your axles tingle!" Thomas said encouragingly. Philip gulped and cautiously rolled forward until he hit the detonator, which went off. Philip yelped and reversed.

"So when any of you hear a bang, slow down and look out, because there's a signal ahead…" Cyril ominously stepped back into the fog, obscured from sight. The Fat Controller scratched the back of his head.

"Er… thank you, Cyril. Now, you heard what he said. Be careful out there." The engines whistled and started to return to work.

Despite some of the engines' skepticism, Cyril's detonators soon proved to be as useful as ever. There were no longer any close calls on the railway, especially on the two big stations on each end of the line. However, not everyone could come to the meeting, which included Samson and Bradford, who were on their way home from the quarry. Samson had finally calmed down by now and felt rather silly.

"Oh, those two are going to tell everyone now, and I'll never hear the end of it…" he mumbled sadly.

"Never mind, lad. That says more about them than it does about you. Let's just take this stone to Dalton, and we can head home, far away from any loud noises." Samson smiled weakly.

"Thanks, Bradford." However, Samson's peace did not last for long, As he approached a junction, Samson rolled over one of Cyril's detonators.

"What was that?!" he cried in horror, "Was that a firework?!"

"It can't be, it's two hours and forty-one minutes too early for the display to start," Bradford mused, "It must be a-" Bradford was cut off as Samson dragged him and the rest of the train of stone onward, screaming again. As Samson sped up, he rolled over more detonators, further terrifying him.

"Fireworks, fireworks! Get away!" He was so scared that he didn't notice he had passed a red signal and raced right through a junction, just barely avoiding hitting Rebecca and one of her expresses.

"Watch out!" Rebecca exclaimed as Samson hurried past, too frightened to reply. Rebecca frowned. "Is that the Samson everyone told me about?" Bradford was trying his best to brake, but for once, it wouldn't hold against Samson stubbornly pressing forwards.

"They're not fireworks, Samson!" Bradford called, "They're fog detonators!"

"Whether they're fireworks or not, though they probably are, I don't want them near me!" Samson wailed.

"Get a grip, Samson, you've overrun at least two red signals! That's two strikes! One more and…" Bradford sighed as Samson passed another red signal. "...he's not listening." Without even realizing it, Samson was diverted onto another line, on which Toby was taking on water before heading home. Suddenly, Toby felt a bump from behind.

"Samson?! What are you doing?" Toby cried as Samson began pushing him along. Toby winced as Samson, still wailing, sped up in an attempt to get away from the "fireworks." "Samson, slow down! I'm not used to going this fast!" Samson, of course, didn't listen; he just became even more scared as he heard more detonators go off, though this time it was Toby that was setting them off.

"Help, help! I don't like fireworks!" Samson exclaimed in terror. Toby raised an eyebrow and he scanned the sky.

"Fireworks? Samson, what are you going on about?" For the first time, Samson noticed there was another engine in front of him.

"Toby? When did you get here?" Before Toby could reply, Samson went past another junction. Toby continued down the line, much to his relief, while Samson was quickly switched onto a siding. Samson hit the buffers with a dull thud, and Bradford bumped into the back of the trucks. Toby watched the scene with bemusement as he puffed on.

"Some engines…" he muttered. Samson nervously looked around for any signs of fireworks.

"Sorry, Bradford," he sighed, finally getting his bearings, "Don't know where we are now. Are we still on Sodor?"

"I would assume so, given you just took that Sudrian tram engine on a joyride, not to mention disrupt the entire railway network," Bradford retorted. Samson grimaced.

"Oh. Didn't mean to, Bradford. I just… really don't like fireworks… They're so loud…"

"But those weren't fireworks! I've been trying to tell you, they're fog detonators!" Samson gasped.

"Fog detonators?" Bradford realized what he had just done and groaned.

"Samson, they're harmless-"

"Those were just as loud, if not louder, than fireworks!" Samson cut in frantically, "And they're everywhere! I-I'm not moving another inch!" Bradford sighed dully.

"Not like we can anyway. Not only are we stranded in the middle of nowhere, but according to the official railway rulebook, we can't move until the fog's lifted." Samson raised an eyebrow.

"Are all those rules really in the rulebook, Bradford?"

"Don't question the book, boyo."

Unfortunately for Samson and Bradford, the fog stuck around for the entire rest of the day. The other engines passed the siding the two were stuck in with their own trains, though the fog was so thick neither could tell who any of them were. Samson's driver, who was rather bored by now, took out a harmonica and started playing it. However, he didn't get very far before Bradford sternly cleared his throat.

"Oh, er, sorry," the driver said sheepishly and put the harmonica away.

"It's getting dark… Shouldn't we ask for directions, Bradford?" Samson asked meekly.

"Glad to see you've learned from your first time here," Bradford replied wryly, "But don't you even think about it. We mustn't delay them any more than we've already."

"Oh… but the fog hasn't lifted. How are we supposed to get home?" Bradford sighed.

"I don't know, boyo. We might be stuck out here all night…" Just then, in the distance, Bradford could hear the sound of fireworks going off. Samson heard it too and started to panic again.

"W-What was that?" Bradford looked up; high in the sky above, there were fireworks of a variety of colours.

"Fireworks!" Bradford grinned. Samson gasped.

"Fireworks and detonators?!" Samson shut his eyes tightly. "Don't want to look! Make them go away!" Despite this empty plea, the fireworks continued to go off. Samson nervously opened an eye.

"See, Samson? Whether they're in crates or up in the sky, fireworks aren't scary at all. In fact, I'd say they're beautiful. Lovely colours and that," Bradford said, keenly watching the firework display. Samson cautiously opened his other eye.

"Well… I suppose from far away, they are a… bit pretty."

"And not just pretty, my lad, useful too!" Bradford continued, "Those must be coming from Ulfstead Castle! If we follow the fireworks, we can make our way up to the castle, and we can regroup! Then, we can finally deliver this stone to Dalton and go home." Samson was nervous at this idea.

"Bradford, are you sure? I don't think that's a rule in the rulebook." Bradford smirked.

"Maybe not, boyo, but desperate times call for desperate measures." Samson gulped, nervously glancing at the faraway fireworks.

"Okay, but… I don't want to get too close."

"Of course not, Samson, but we must get moving if we're going to get to Dalton before dawn. Now, quickly now! Move it, move it, follow those whizzes and bangs!" Samson whistled and reversed out of the siding and onto the main line.

Unsurprisingly, Samson was not too happy about being forced to go near the fireworks. The closer he got to the castle, the louder they became. Samson winced as the bangs echoed all around him.

"Ooh… I don't like this…"

"You're doing well, lad! Keep going! We're almost there!" Bradford called encouragingly. Samson shut his eyes as they approached the castle gates. The train whooshed over the drawbridge and into the castle, where a crowd of engines had gathered to watch the firework display.

"Samson? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be home by now?" Rosie asked curiously. Samson opened his eyes and smiled sheepishly as the engines gazed at him.

"Oh, uh… Just a visit, that's all. Didn't get lost, not at all." Rosie rolled her eyes.

"Of course not. What do you think of fireworks now, Samson?" Samson nervously looked up at the fireworks going off above him, and to his own surprise, found himself enjoying the sight of them.

"Well, er, they're not so bad after all, Rosie. Neither are fog detonators, come to think of it. Both are very useful in their own way." As Samson was talking, Cyril, who had been in the crowd of people watching the fireworks, snuck through the crowd and placed a detonator on the track in front of Rosie. He gestured to Rosie, who smirked and rolled forward, setting the detonator off. Samson jumped in fright.

"I do wish they weren't so loud, though…" Everyone laughed until Bradford sternly cleared his throat.

"Alright, Samson, we've had our fun, but we must be heading back to the mainland now." Normally, Samson would've agreed in a heartbeat, but as he looked up at the fireworks, he couldn't help but feel sad that he was leaving.

"Can we stay just for a little while, Bradford? I want to see if one of the fireworks will have my colour!" Bradford reluctantly sighed.

"Alright, Samson, just this once. We may be embarrassingly late with our mission, but facing your fears nonetheless makes you a really useful engine, and you deserve some sort of reward." Samson grinned proudly as he, along with the other engines, watched the fireworks with increasing delight, despite the occasional loud "bang" still startling him.

Author's Note: Was supposed to post this yesterday, but accidentally forgot, but hey, better late than never! Not a lot of changes this time around, mainly just swapping some roles around and adjusting the writing. Writing Samson and Bradford was a ton of fun and great practice for the future. Speaking of the future, this is the last rewrite of the batch that I've written before publishing them. Doesn't mean I'm going to stop necessarily (though I'm not sure what's left of Season 22 that isn't either too good that I don't to touch it or something I'd rather just not go near), but there will be a bit of a break as I return my focus to original stories. In the meantime, though, hopefully these six will tide you over. Thank you for reading these, and check out my original stories if you want!