The Night Before the Night

Part 8

The mission can wait for a moment of light,
For laughter that cuts through the shadow of night.

Before sleighs hum and systems ignite,
The heart must be fed, the bond must be tight.

And in Boston Edison, under garland and gold,
Family reminds us that joy is bold.

As Nicc drove through Detroit’s historic neighborhoods on the night before Christmas Eve, nostalgia washed over him like the familiar embrace of a woolen blanket. The streets sparkled with holiday spirit, a kaleidoscope of lights dancing in the crisp winter air.

He passed front porches lit with inflatable reindeer, glowing nativity scenes, and crooked candy cane fences. It was crazy that Detroit still believed, even when it had every reason not to.

Memories flitted through his mind, especially of the Christmases spent at Uncle Beau’s mansion, where magic had once felt as real as the cookies they left out for Santa. His heart beat faster with anticipation for tomorrow’s mission. His daughter’s smile flashed behind his eyes, tangled with the fear of failure.

He parked in front of the mansion in Boston Edison and paused. The house stood like a beacon, draped in twinkling lights, its warmth spilling onto the snow-dusted street. As he walked up to the door, he was welcomed by the scents of pine and mulled cider that tugged at his insides.

Back at the shop, he knew Aubli and Sali were deep in final calibrations: quantum portals, stealth frequencies, sleigh disruptors. The whole plan depended on everything syncing perfectly.

Inside, the party pulsed with music and voices. Carols mingled with laughter. His cousin Drai spotted him first and bounded over, grinning like a child with a secret.

“Yo, Nicc! Thought you got lost on the way over,” Drai said, pulling him into a bear hug.

“Just had to finish up a few things at the shop,” Nicc replied, smiling at the familiarity of it all as his mind continued assembling the pieces of tomorrow’s blueprint.

Drai leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Still playing Santa, huh? You gonna be the Grinch this time or what?”

Nicc laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, this year’s different. I’m going all out. And I need your help.”

The evening swirled in food and festivity. Dinner was a feast fit for royalty. Around the table, stories flowed as freely as the eggnog. Uncle Beau took center stage with his signature Christmas tales, always told a little louder than necessary, each one bigger than the last.

But it was Drai who truly stole the show.

With every family story, Drai transformed into a one-man theater. His reenactments of Uncle Beau’s booming Santa impressions had the table howling. His exaggerated retelling of Nicc’s childhood attempt to trap Santa brought the house down. His gift of comedy was the perfect tool for the job ahead.

After dinner, as games and gift exchanges unfolded, Nicc pulled Drai aside near the massive tree, its ornaments glowing like jewels.

“Remember our bet about Santa when we were kids?” Nicc asked.