7:02 a.m
He walked the same old route to the foundry, turning a corner and walking by the sidewalk to get to the front entrance. As soon as he did, his face was immediately struck by the hot air and dark fumes coming from the furnaces. He shook his head in an attempt to disperse the heat, which clearly didn't work. The acrid smell of iron and soot already lingered in the air—a daily perfume he'd grown used to, but never quite liked.
"Oi, Henry. Could use an extra hand here." A voice called out to him as he entered.
"Shoveling duty? Nah, I got metal moving to do, Vance." Henry replied, slipping on an old dirty apron that probably was never washed in the entirety of its existence. He waved at the man digging into the coal pile, watching him toss it into the large industrial furnace. The fire screamed as the heat increased, blowing out flames.
"Come on now, bruv? Just a little help never killed a man." Vance said, tossing another shovel of coal into the mouth of the furnace, keeping it burning bright. Henry looked up at him.
Vance stood a whole head taller than Henry; his shoulders were wider than his entire torso, and his arms thicker than both of his together. Vance was significantly older than Henry was—six years to be exact—acting as a sort of older brother figure. He sported a peach fuzz just under his chin, as well as a heavy brow.
Henry shook his head and let out a chuckle. "You'd be surprised by how wrong that statement is. Alright, hand me a shovel."
"Attaboy, there's the goodie-two-shoes I know and love."
Vance threw him a shovel and heaved coal into the furnace while Henry took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. Vance worked the longest in the foundry, having spent ten years of his life shoveling coal into furnaces, keeping them burning hot. It had become a well-practiced routine for him. Every rumble of coal, every scream of the furnace. Even the smell of smoke and fumes. It was home to him.
Henry, on the other hand, while a good and hard-working man, never got used to working at the foundry. He had been there a little over two years, but every day felt like his first. The heat on his face, the smoke in his lungs, the soot and carbon staining his hands. It was always a stranger to him, despite his muscle memory of nearly every task.
"You better take me to dinner after," Henry said, striking his first pile of coal.
"Ye? With candlelight and a nice juicy steak?" Vance laughed.
Henry let out a scoff as he heaved and threw a clump into the furnace. He shook his head. "Of course! I'll even pay for the hotel after, " he snickered, wiggling his eyebrows.
Vance blinked and let out a snicker as well, taking a break from his coal pile.
"Your mum must be proud."
"Not as much as yours; she really enjoyed last night."
Henry chuckled. "Nice try, Vance, but you'd have to dig her up, first." he said.
"Good lord, Henry." Vance shook his head and let out a soft laugh, putting his hands up in front of him. "Alright, you win, ye cheeky bugger."
Henry let out a small laugh and tossed a shovel of coal into the furnace.
"I know it's been a long time," Vance said. "But to joke about that… well."
"It's alright," Henry replied. "I was still young back then. Had my brother to take care of, but ever since he died, I kind of just forgot about everything and moved on with life."
Vance frowned a bit, scrunching up his forehead and walking closer. He slammed a heavy hand on the poor lad's shoulder, making him drop his shovel in surprise.
"Oi, if you ever need to talk. We're mates here, ye?" He patted Henry on the back before nodding to himself, having helped a friend. "We look out for each other here."
"By mates, you don't mean getting into bed together, do you?" Henry grinned and raised a brow.
"Oh, bugger off. One of these days, bruv. I swear." Vance shook his head. "Now, how 'bout we finish up this pile and get ye moving some heavy metal, ye?" The gruff man said with a wide smile.
Henry let out a soft chuckle. "Yeah, let's do that."
Work got finished faster with the two of them. Though, Vance was doing more than half of the actual shoveling. Time ran quickly as they worked, joints popping as they heaved coal into furnaces and moved steel bars. They had done the little dance for hours, with only a small break during the lunch hour.
Before they knew it, dusk had set upon them.
---
5:40 pm
Henry let out a long, dragged-out sigh; his shift was nearly done. He took off his shirt for the 5th time, and slapped it on his back, wiping off the heavy beads of sweat. "You going overtime again, Vance?" he asked, wiping his forehead.
"As usual. You off to see the kids?"
"I haven't adopted them yet."
"Aye, nonsense, with how they see you, might as well be their dad already."
"Haha, well, I'm working to make it official. Those two are going to be a handful."
"True, but they'll be a joy," Vance chuckled, before suddenly turning to Henry and shooting him a glare. "You better make me uncle, or I ain't covering for your missed shift ye bastard," he said.
Henry laughed, nodding. "You bet on it! Who else would I ask? Big John?"
"Oi, why'd I hear my name down there?" A large, burly man with a thick beard and a belly bigger than a boulder called out from one of the catwalks.
"Nothin', Big John!" Vance replied.
"Ye better not be insulting me behind my back!"
Henry laughed and called out as well. "Wouldn't even dream of it!"
Just then, the bell rang. Almost automatically, some of the workers slung their shirts on their backs and went straight for the exit, packing up their lunches and hanging up their aprons. Henry nodded and put his shirt back on instead. It wasn't illegal to walk around the city without a shirt, or completely nude for that matter, but it was surely indecent.
"Well, another hard day's work. See you, Vance," he said, heading for the exit.
"Have a good night, Henry!" Vance called, waving his hand at him. Vance watched as his coworker left the factory, and new ones walked inside. As soon as he was out of sight, he grabbed the shovel and continued his work.
Henry walked back to the tram station and waited for the next one to come by. He was a little late, but he could still play with the kids for a bit. They were probably waiting for him by the orphanage gate; at least Camilla would be. Her brother would have been too busy playing with the others. For siblings, those two were not at all alike, but he thought the dynamic to be quite funny at times. He wouldn't want them to change one bit.
They both reminded him of his younger brother, George. He would like to climb the old tree by their house and pretend to be a lookout on a ship—putting his hands over his brows and calling port and starboard, whatever he meant by that.
Henry didn't understand him sometimes. He was a strange one, but he loved him completely either way. It was a tragedy that he died too young.
Eventually, he had to move on.
It was the only thing he could do. Any longer in the darkness would've caused him to go completely mad. Give Sol praise, he was still needed by the greater universe for something. He was to take care of two young children, who badly needed someone to give them strength, and he knew he had enough to give.
The tram was taking much longer than expected; it usually wasn't this late. He checked his watch and saw that he had been waiting for over ten minutes. The sky was getting darker too.
He tried to keep himself from worrying, but something felt… off.
It was a twisting sensation deep in his gut, as beads of sweat started to form on his temples. The hair at the back of his neck stood up, and he felt a chill run up his spine, making him shiver.
He looked around him, already taking a stance, ready to take off into a full sprint at a moment's notice, but he didn't see anything. Nothing looked out of place, except for the fact that it was a little quiet. The usual hum of the tram station was eerily absent.
The sound of footsteps grew fainter, as if the world around him was holding its breath. Some people walking around minding their own business started to look up and stare into the distant sky. Soon, more and more seemed to follow. It wasn't until Henry himself looked up did he notice something peculiar.
Somewhere in the distance, probably just a few kilometers from his position, were dark figures just below the clouds. Large, round, elongated shapes, surfing across the sky. They were approaching fast. Too fast. He took a step back, squinting his eyes at the figures. He knew what they were, but the horror only set in once he was sure.
The black banners they were sporting became much clearer now. He blinked and rubbed his eyes.
No. It wasn't a trick of the light.
People were beginning to run now, while others seemed too stunned to even move. His stomach sank. It was them. They all knew what it was, and what it meant.
Those were skyships, dreadnought-class. Strigoi. They were invading.
His eyes went wide before his senses returned to him.
He quickly turned and bolted, cursing to himself. He had been standing idly watching it for too long. Just then, the ground shook, and what he had feared had come to fruition. Loud clashes and booms rattled across the city, followed by the sounds of shattered glass and buildings crashing down to the ground. Waves of hot air swept across with each crash and boom, sending another structure toppling down.
The screams began. Galloping feet against the street. Cars, walkers, horses, and men. They all ran. Away from death that came from the sky, raining down fire with every beat of their chest. A sick rhythm as each bomb blew away brick and steel, flesh and bone, glass, and silver.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
One. Two. Three.
The ground shook violently with each bomb dropped. The skyships flew overhead, gaining ground with each second. Henry barely had time to make any distance before they were only a few blocks away from him. The deafening sounds of engines roaring shrieked and rang in his ears as they got closer and closer.
His tired legs screamed at him as he pushed them to go faster, running as fast as his feet could take him. They were almost overhead, the explosions rocking the buildings behind him as he struggled to keep his balance. Rubble chased after him, threatening to fall over and crush him.
"Shit! No, no, no!" he spat, dodging the flying debris, trying to stay on his feet as he stumbled onto the ground, his hands catching his fall and leaving rough scratches on his palm. A bomb fell, just a few meters away from him.
The explosion nicked him. The shockwave sent him flying forward. The back of his shirt caught some of the flames. The pavement gave way and blew apart like a volcano, sending chunks of cement into the sky before crashing down and crushing some of those who were fleeing from the chaos.
Henry found himself lying on the ground, his face pressed to the floor with an ache in his lungs. His head was ringing, and his vision became a blur of colors before everything slowly faded to black.