Tram sat at the dinner table with his younger brother, Gin. Soon, their father would arrive from a grueling day at The Foundry. The family of four resides on an industrial island, named Monument Island. The Foundry and many other factories are responsible for goods and materials purchased by neighboring islands. Tram's father loads raw iron ore into a series of fast moving crucibles to be melted down in massive furnaces. Once the metal is refined it is sold to other nearby factories, or exported to neighboring islands producing larger machinations like airships and haulers. This perilous job leaves him haggard day after day. This is the way of life on Monument Island.

“Momma, where is Papa? He is late,” said Gin. “I'm hungry,” he whines.

“Hush up, Gin! He always gets stuck waiting for the next crew to take over. Papa can't stop until they're there,” explains Tram. “You know this, so why do you cry about it every night!”

“I'm not crying! Crying is for babies!” argues Gin. “Can't we just eat, Momma? Papa can still eat when he gets home.”

“Boys! Stop bickering. Your father works very hard, every day, so he can take care of us. The least we can do is sit down and eat together as a family. He really loves to chat with us over dinner and hear about our day.” says the boy's mother. Mother stays home and takes care of the boys. She cleans, and cooks, and makes sure they stay out of trouble. In her spare time, she knits new clothes or blankets out of material Father buys from the market square. Sometimes she sells them to other families for extra coin. Women aren't allowed to work in the factories. Each industry has its own set of hazards and a different hellish environment. Other islands have factories that are not dangerous at all and prefer hiring a woman for delicate precision work that most men can not do.

The boys entertained themselves, rolling an apple across the table. They giggled as it rumbles, back and forth. A tattered, plaid, cloth covered the rough surface. Four mismatched chairs sat on each side. A beaten cupboard with a broken door sat in the corner, a tight squeeze between it and the table. “Oh I see him! He just turned the corner...” she paused. “Something's wrong,” she mutters.

Father was running. He had discarded his tools and lunch pail and sprint down the cobbled road, fear and determination on his face. Mother ran to the door and stepped outside, a worried look on her face. “Get back inside!” he shouted. “Back inside the house, now!” Mother stepped back, leaving room for father to enter. He closed the door and peered out the window before drawing the shades. “Turn out the lights and douse the fire,” to mother. “Boys. I need you to listen to me. This is very important.” Father stumbled into the room, his clothes soaked with blood. There was a gash on the left of his face. He was holding a limp right arm, concealing it as best he could. He didn't want to frighten the boys.

“What's happened? Oh! You are hurt! Who did this?” mother asked, worried. She turned out the lights and moved to put out the fire. “What is going on?”

“Brigands. The island is being attacked. They've raid The Foundry and took the ore.” Mother extinguished the fire. “They were attacking the workers. I was lucky enough to slip out through the side alley. Can't say as much for the rest of my crew.” After a moment of realization and grief, he directed his attention to his sons. “Boys, I want you to get below.” He hurriedly threw the rug to the side revealing a door in the floor beside the mantle. “You can't make a sound. Don't move, don't speak. If you hear the pirates enter our home, you mus'nt be found! You can't.”

With panic in his voice, Tram pleads, “But Papa, what about you and Momma? You come too. Then it'll look like no one's home.” He pulled Gin across the room to the hole in the floor.

“Don't worry about us, Tram. Boys, your mother and I love you more than you can imagine. You are all that matters,” father said as he hugged them tightly with his good arm. He kissed each on the head before lowering them carefully into the darkness below. “Remember, not a sound. I'll be back when this is over.”

With a loving smile, masking the fear and uncertainty, Father lowered the door and a rustle of the rug left them in darkness, spare a small sliver of moonlight coming through a knot in a floorboard. Footsteps could be heard going toward the door, and pacing back and forth. Mother and father were talking, but Tram couldn't make out the words. It seems to be hours, cramped together with Gin in the small crawl space beneath their home. Gin was becoming restless, stretching and wiggling, whispering and wanting to talk. Then there was a deafening crash, startling both boys. Footsteps shuffled overhead. There were new voices and torchlight filling the room with an amber glow. Tram pushed himself up in an awkward position, trying to get a better view, to hear what was being said.

“You killed one of my men and injured another,” said a deep, raspy voice. “Did you think you'd get away with that? It's not easy findin' good men these days. I've come to collect my vengeance. Fair exchange, yes? I am going to kill your woman.” Father stepped in front of mother. “Don't worry, mate. I'll make it quick, I don't enjoy hurting women. After all, I'm not a monster...” He laughed slowly, taking in their little one room home. “Once I'm through with her, we'll end your life and turn over this shithole of a... do you actually call this a house?”

“You bastard. Why are you doing this? Just take your loot and move on! My wife has done nothing.”

“Hmm. You're right. She didn't do anything at all! But it's only fair, ya know, an eye for an eye. Barrel, grab 'er!” Tram could see a hulking bald man with a cybertech arm walk across the room. He could hear as his father struggled with the man, trying to defend his wife.

His mother pleading, with terror in her voice. “Please no. Please. We have coin. And, and valuables. Please take them. Please.” The cyber man pushed her across the room toward the door and out of Tram's sight. She screamed “Please, just leave us be.”

“Valuables and coin, you say?” said the man.

“Mhm. Please, just t-t-take them and leave.”

“Oh we'll be taking everythin' from this island, includin' your measly treasures. But first...”

“Leave her be! You've come for me! Take me and your coin! Leave my love.” Father pleaded, stricken with grief. “Please. She's done nothing.”

Tram heard a thud followed by an immediate howl of anger from his Father. Then, gunshots. He could see his father, dazed. He stood for a moment, crimson blooming across his clothes, then dropped to his knees and fell to one side. His eyes grew still, looking to the boys. Disbelief turned into rage, into confusion, into helplessness. Tram fought with himself to stay quiet. To stay calm. He had to protect Gin. His parents lost their lives, only to protect them.

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“Tram wha...” Gin began to speak before being swiftly silenced by his older siblings palm. Tram held him tightly, whispering as calmly as he could. “Papa asked us to stay quiet, remember?” he choked up. “Hush up.”

The brigands pilfered the drawers, throwing items of little value to the floor, pocketing everything they could. Tram could see several new men walking about. One man went through the bookshelf taking any that spoke of trade skills, the only ones worth significant coin. Father's books. “No' very goo' haul Cap'n. No Jewelry, small bit uh coin. Coupl'a trade books. No' much.” The man speaking was outside of Tram's view. He sounded older, with a strong accent and an airy slur.

“Let's move on, then. Head south to the next factory,” said the captain. “Tarlee's crew should be headed back to the ship. Like ya mean it, men! The clock is uh tickin'! We do not want to deal with an Authority cruiser!”

Shuffling footsteps move to the door. Silence.

Tram held Gin. He had just witnessed his parents' death. He was sobbing. Gin, too young to understand, was crying only because Tram was. After a time, Tram lift the door to take a look, the heavy carpet caused him to struggle as he pushed up and out. “Gin, nobody is here. I want you to stay here a while longer, while I go see what is happening outside. Gin, please do not open this door. And stay quiet.”

“Where are Momma and Papa, Tram? I'm scared. Papa said he'd be back.”

“Gin, I'll be back shortly. Please do as I say. I don't know where Momma and Papa are,” he lied. “I'll go find them.” Tram put on his best smile. A tear rolled from his eye. “Promise you will stay right here?”

“Okay, Tram. I promise.”

Tram hopped out of the hole and quickly closed it, covering it once more with the rug. The smell of mother's fresh porridge overpowered the stench of death. He turned only to see a blank stare from his father lying in a pool of his own blood, his limp arm sprawled unnaturally. It must have been broken at The Foundry when the pirates attacked. That man said Father killed one of them. He turned to see his mother on the threshold. Her throat was slit, and her eyes were wide with fear and panic.

Tram turned and heaved. The sight of dead parents was too much, even for a man grown. He panicked. What would he do? How would he survive? Who could he go to for help? The Authority has always neglected Monument Island. He'd have to provide for Gin. What should he do? “This isn't the time, Tram. I gotta stay focused,” he said to himself, smacking his jaws and ruffling his hair. He carefully stepped over his mother's corpse and out into the street, fighting the urge to look back.

Smoke filled the air. Not the usual smog from the factories, but from burning wood and rubble. Half the town was set ablaze. He could hear screams in the distance. Gunshots. Glass breaking. Laughter. Chaos. He ran south toward Copper Forge. Tram was beginning to realize the scale of this attack. The brigands had entered each home and took anything of value they could find. Corpses of men, women, and even children littered the streets. Burning buildings were collapsing into the roads, smoke burned his eyes and throat. Screams could be heard from the wreckage of burning homes as he passed by. Injured folk, struggling to get to safety, shout at him to get help. Others groveled hopelessly as they clung to lifeless, loved ones.

A persistent rumbling could be heard from the west. What is that? Reaching the forge, Tram dove behind crates and barrels sat outside the building in the storeyard. He heard voices inside, but couldn't make out any words over the rumbling noise. It was getting louder. Suddenly, the moon was obscured, casting him in darkness, as a large airship appeared over the buildings. Tram covered his eyes as dust, and smoke, and debris gusted about from the cybertech engine's downward thrust. The ship itself was a massive, bulky, machine. Four huge engines roared from below the deck. The sides of the vessel were covered in rigging to store supplies and treasures. Many seemed close to bursting. Men could be seen running about, securing cargo on the upper deck. The ship held position just outside the forge, hovering in place.

The crew threw ropes and chains, tied to the deck, down to the street below. Flailing in the wind, men struggled to grab hold. A large chainlink net was lowered out of a wide hatch in the bottom of the ship, to secure their haul.

“Tarlee's here, men! Load up!” The captain emerged. “Time is running short!”

“Captain!” shouted a man from the deck of the ship. “Captain, we've detected an incoming Authority ship! They've sent a galleon! Take only what you can move fast! We have no time!”

“You heard Tarlee, men! Abandon the heavy! Time to go lads!” The captain grabbed hold of a rope and the crew above hoisted him to the deck. Tram got a look at him. The captain is an aged man, older than most men he knew around the island. The industry takes many young lives. He has dark disheveled hair, gray showing his age. A patch covered his right eye, a large scar stretched across his face. A crooked nose sat atop a bushy gray mustache. He wore a dark cloak with a red and white insignia on it, a skull with a rose on it's right eye, a crack stretched across it.

“Well, wha' 'ave we here.” Tram, startled, jumped to his feet. The older man that took tally as they looted his home stood before him. “Barrel! We 'ave uh guest.” Tram turned to run down the alley. Barrel lunged toward him, his massive body colliding into the wall as Tram stumbled out of his path. Barrel was fast for a large man, but Tram was more agile. As he sprinted through the backstreets, he vaulted over boxes and climbed fences that Barrel crashed through, his cybertech arm extended before him.

Tram turned a corner, a dead end. Barrel's heavy steps coming closer. Tram quickly crawled between a few crates, to hide, and discovered a hole in the building's rusted wall. He crawled through the opening, cutting his shoulder on the jagged metal. Looking around inside, there was a young girl about his age, her frightened face damp and eyes red from tears. Tram motioned to her to stay quiet. “Sshhhh.” Barrel stepped into view, stopping just outside, turned their direction, crossed the alley. His cybertech arm crashed through the crates, raining shrapnel over the alley. The man stood there a moment before turning to walk away, having received commands to board the ship. Once he was out of earshot, “Are you hurt? They are leaving now, I overheard them saying the Authority is on the way. C'mon, we should get out of here. I left my brother Gin at home, I need to see he's safe.”

The two of them crawled back out into the alley, Tram taking care to not cut himself on the opening again. “Where is your home? Do you want me to take you there?” She didn't speak. “C'mon.” He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her along. The rumbling from the ships engines was gone, the men had made their escape before the Authority arrived. Tram pulled the girl close. “Don't look at them.” She cried as they walked, passing by the burnt remains of families' homes and the corpses strewn through the streets.

“Will you tell me your name?” Tram asked.

“It's... L-l-lizzy. I th-think they killed him. My da' made me r-run, and he f-fought them. There's n-no way he got away! That man had a-a-a big metal arm. He was so-s-s-so strong!” She wailed. Tram stopped and pulled her closer. She cried into his shoulder, shaking. He cried with her.

Tram held her, assured her that things would be fine. That they would be fine. That he would help her. “Lizzy,” she looked up at him, puffy eyed, “let's go get my brother.” They walked back across town to Tram and Gin's home, passing the destruction along the way. Thundering engines of the Authority galleon ship roared overhead. Crew haulers dropped from the bottom and descended to various parts around the island, healers and militants to search the island. Quicker and smaller cruisers continued on with the chase, following the pirates south.

Trams' home came into view as they turned a corner. It was burning. Tram sprint up the hill, Lizzy fell behind. The door was still open, mother still lying there, terror on her face. Only the roof was burning, spread from the home behind. He still had time to get inside and save Gin. He jumped the threshold, over his mother, landing badly and slipping in his parent's blood. As he fell to his side, he hit hard. Lizzy stepped in behind Tram, urging him to be swift. The fire was spreading.

“Gin... no.” The trap door was open. He was gone.