**The Spark of Curiosity**

Prompt: Gunsmith cats fanfiction rally asks may what got her interested in explosives and may tells her it was working eod in the army while in Iraq

In a small, not-so-bustling city, the GunSmith Cats' workshop was alive with the soft hum of machinery, the intermittent clink of metal, and the faint scent of oil. Rally Vincent, the tough-as-nails bounty hunter and expert marksman, stood at the workbench, her hair tied back in a practical ponytail. She was busy assembling a custom pistol, every piece fitting together in perfect harmony. But today, her focus wavered slightly, distracted by a conversation sparking nearby. “May, what got you interested in explosives?” Rally asked, glancing over at her business partner and beloved friend, May Hopkins, who was knee-deep in various tools and parts of a dismantled grenade launcher. May turned, a mischievous grin spreading across her face at the unexpected inquiry. “Me? Oh, that’s a story!” May replied, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. Rally set down the pieces she was working on, leaning closer, eager for a good tale. “Don’t keep me in suspense! I wanna know how you got into something as insane as explosives!” Rally encouraged, crossing her arms and settling in for what promised to be an interesting story. May's expression turned serious, her gaze drifting momentarily to the tools scattered around. “It all started back when I joined the Army, doing EOD—explosive ordnance disposal—in Iraq. I was just a kid then, really, but I wanted to serve my country. I figured how hard could it be?” she recounted, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “EOD? You were handling bombs?” Rally's eyebrow shot up, a mix of disbelief and admiration in her tone. “Yep! One day you’re learning to dismantle a grenade, and the next you’re defusing an IED. It was… exhilarating and terrifying all at once. I had to learn quickly that the difference between life and death was all in how you handled your tools,” May continued, her passion for explosive devices igniting. Rally leaned in, captivated. “But how did you end up loving it? I mean, that sounds like a heavy job, weighty and stressful.” “Ah, there’s beauty in it, Rally,” May replied with a laugh, tossing her hair back confidently. “When you break it down, each explosive is like a puzzle waiting to be solved. You study it, learn its quirks, and figure out its weaknesses. It becomes a dance between instinct and intellect. There’s an adrenaline rush with every successful disarm. It’s art in some ways.” Rally nodded, sipping her coffee thoughtfully. “Art?” she mused. “It’s a dangerous medium, though.” “True! But so is firearms, Rally. You understand that better than anyone.” May countered, a thoughtful expression on her face. “It’s not about the explosion or the destruction; it’s about saving lives and understanding the mechanics behind it. That’s what intrigued me the most. I found a strange sense of clarity in chaos.” Rally fidgeted with the parts on her workbench, considering May's words. In their line of work, life was often about surviving the chaos, not merely enduring it. “But it had to be rough, right? The pressure, the fear…” she prompted, her tone shifting to accommodate concern. May sighed, her eyes losing some of their shine. “There were tough moments, for sure. You never forget your close calls. I still remember the first time I disarmed a live IED with sweat dripping down my back and my heart racing like a fighter jet. It’s the fear that propels you, but it’s also the responsibility of protecting others that kept me grounded.” “By disarming those bombs, you saved lives,” Rally concluded, admiration clear in her voice. “That’s incredible, May.” May smiled shyly, “Not just my work. The entire team—medics and soldiers, all of us—looked after one another. Trust was everything out there. Each successful mission showed us how much impact we could make.” She paused, glancing out the workshop window where a few stray cats roamed peacefully in the overgrown grass, oblivious to the chaotic world beyond. “That’s what I brought back, you know? A sense of purpose.” “Purpose?” Rally repeated, intrigued. “So that’s why you’ve always been so eager to make sure everyone at the shop knows their weapon inside and out.” “Exactly! I don’t want anyone to feel unarmed—figuratively or literally. Every piece of equipment holds a potential story, like my old EOD gear. I want people to respect it, understand its potential.” May's enthusiasm began to bubble again, and Rally couldn’t help but smile as her friend animatedly described the intricacies of different explosives and their mechanics, showcasing that sparkle in her eyes once more. “Rally, you remember that incident last month with the demo workshop when I blew that thing up, right?” May continued, laughing at the memory. “Yeah! We barely managed to save the workbench,” Rally chuckled, thinking back to the moment when May’s experimental charge had gone a little too far. “You taught me a valuable lesson there—respect explosives because they aren’t toys.” “Touché,” May grinned. “But hey, mistakes are how we learn. Every failure leads us closer to the right answer.” As the sun began to set outside, casting a warm glow in the workshop, Rally leaned back, observing May with newfound respect. More than a genius with tools and explosions, she was a symbol of tenacity, conversion, and brilliance born from facing chaos head-on. “Thanks for sharing that with me, May. Your story about the Army made me respect your work so much more,” Rally said softly. “Anytime, Rally!” May replied, her grin brightening the dimly lit room. “Just remember, if anything blows up or goes wrong here, make sure it’s a controlled environment!” Rally laughed heartily as they began to gather their tools, the laughter fading into a comfortable silence filled with the promise of more adventures to come. In that small workshop, amid the clutter and chaos, an appreciation for purpose and the art of managing their crafty, explosive world solidified their bond, turning every day into a testament to survival and friendship.