Union Bar.

To say that the mood at the Union Bar was low would be an understatement to the union workers that sat in the dark and quiet place. While West Virginia was a union stronghold, their hold on the town of Somewhere has been less than firm over the years due in part to government corruption and public disinterest.

The recent conflict between the union and Mortimer didn't help any. They lost their leader, and most fervent supporters, after that whole business. While the majority of them eventually returned, greener and hairier than any expected. Bill himself was still missing. The only answer they got from those that returned from Mortimer's "trip" or whatever it actually was, kept mum about the affair, just saying that Bill had his own things to figure out.

Not like it did the union any good in the meantime. With the recent arrival of the strange folk from somewhere else, things have hit the union pretty hard. Mainly because what little work they had was quickly taken over by military grunts in the name of security. After all, who needed Teamsters in beaten up trucks when military trucks could do the job?

Which left the union nursing their drinks in the dreary atmosphere of the bar. The old jukebox going through the playlist of typical union songs that did nothing but turn the union folk bitter as the nauseatingly optimistic songs played in the background almost mockingly.

"Will someone turn that shit off." Someone called from the bar annoyed as the record switched.

"Why? Not like we're doin' anythin' else." Someone retorted from nearby.

"Yeah? And whose fault is that?" Another spat.

"Jesus, can we not start this again? We've been over it who-knows-how-many times already."

"That don't mean we like it. It's OUR livelihoods after all!"

"We know that! But what should we do? Organize? Because that worked out so well last time."

"Well what else do we do? Just sit here and twiddle our thumbs and wait for this all to blow over? How long will that be? How long can our families afford to wait?"

"Look around us, these folk need help and if we start picketin' it's gonna hurt alot of folk that really don't need that kind of hardship right now."

"Oh boohoo! Someone somewhere is dealin' with hardship! What makes them so special?!"

"The fact that they're right here for one thing."

Voices turned to quieted grumbling as the union folk grew tired of arguing over nothing. Again. This wasn't the first, nor last, time they've argued over how to deal with the situation in town and how the workers of Somewhere can get their fair work and pay. They weren't no slouches, they wanted to work for their pay! The problem was that damn near the entire bit of work they once had had either been bought and sold away or taken over by the military in the name of security and efficiency.

Who were they to take up a strike when it was for folk that desperately needed it? Not like they were picketing Morty or the Duvals for fair and safe work and pay, or some other boss that didn't care about the working man. Not like it made them feel better though. They still had bills to pay and mouths to feed.

Some of their lot, those that returned from some sort of science trial or whatever it was, offered them work and access to ending up like they did. Big, mean, and green. While it was tempting to some, most didn't much care for the prospect of being Guinea pigs for some quack. But with their prospects not looking to bright, maybe this strange trial would be all that they could afford to do.

"Aye, they're right here. AND they're takin' yo-our jobs!" A voice called out from the din.

Eyes moved from their drinks to the sound and saw a man covered in dirt and grime that leaned against the corner of the room. Someone spoke up as none of them voiced recognition.

"Who're you stranger?"

"Same as you lot. Some poor man that wanted a better life and got stuck with somethin' else entirely." The stranger said.

"Yeah? When did you get here? We know everyone on union payroll and you don't look familiar."

"Not long ago. Before things around here got too crazy." The man stated with quick assurance.

Before any more questions could be directed towards the man he spoke into the dark air.

"And I came expecting good work and pay. And what did I find instead? Corruption, indifference, abuse. How am I goin' to feed my family at this rate?"

"Preachin' to the choir pal. Pick a different song, we've heard this one plenty." One of the union's more seasoned members stated.

"Maybe you are, but I'm not. How many jobs have been taken from us already?" The man continued.

"It's the military, what do you want us to do?"

"Well I'd want some fair work and pay is what I'd want. What about you?"

"Well yeah, but-"

"Hells, even those jobs digging pits sounds better than sittin' here doin' nothin'."

Some heads turned in the man's direction.

"What pits?"

"Oh? None of you heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Guar-Military's short on hands and needed some extra bit of help for a project outside of town. So who do they get? Some of the newcomers, that's who." The man stated.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The union members looked at one another with curious looks in their eyes.

"What do you mean they got the newcomers?"

"That's what I said innit? cough I mean, that's what I've heard and seen. Some deal worked out with the General Major, newcomers gettin' work while we're stuck here doin' nothin'!"

Some of the members eyeballed the stranger with suspicious eyes as he seemed to switch accent on certain words and phrases. The man, seeing the troubled looks on their faces, pivoted.

"And that isn't all! I even heard they have slaves at the hub!"

"Horseshit! Curse the government all you want, but even they would'nt go so far as to ignore slavery right here!"

"Now hold on, that's not what Charles said. When him and some of the others were called back to work with the new owner, they were given contracts that were fishy. Him and a few others refused and left, but what they heard from those that took the contract is that folk is bein' worked to the bone with the only pay bein' company cash!"

"Again, horseshit! As bad as the government is, it wouldn't-"

"Are you so sure? Sure enough to risk your livelihoods on it?" The man asked.

"Look. It ain't the Coal Wars again. The government-"

"Is as shit today as it was back then! You know damn well they don't give a piss about us! Only thing I'm surprised about is my job bein' given to someone I can actually see!"

The man continued as he saw anger started to ferment among the union members and was beginning to overwhelm the suspicion of him.

"And if we don't do somethin' it wont change! How long before THEY become the workin' class and your-we're all left at the wayside?! They're givin' jobs that belong to honest union workers and what's left is being bought, sold, and enslaved and the higher ups don't care!"

The man broke out in a sweat as several eyes still lingered on him despite the tones changing in the room around them. As one of the seasoned members made to speak to him another voice spoke up.

"Damn right! Bill was right! If we didn't run with our tails between our legs before, we probably wouldn't be in this mess!"

"Now hold on Phil, Bill-"

"Was! Right!"

"And where is Ol' Bill huh? Took the Duval's money didn't he?"

"Maybe he did. But at least he got somethin' for his trouble! What do we got?!"

"And say we do go on the attack. Start strikin' again and picketin'. Then what? What's stoppin' the government and grunts from just pushin' us aside?"

"That experimental treatment the others got!"

"Are you fuckin' serious?! You wanna be injected like some lab-rat?!"

"And what's the alternative?! At least I'll be bigger and stronger! Kyle can bend a piece of rebar with his bare hands like it was made of paper! I'll take that over bein' the welcome mat for the feds and these newcomers!"

The stranger watched as opinions became heated as the bar became a battleground of words between the two factions. Some, mainly the seasoned union members, wanted to either ride it out or just wash their hands of things. The others, mainly younger members full of piss and vinegar, wanted to fight for what was theirs, and were willing to take an experimental drug if it meant having their words backed with muscle!

The tiredness of the former group proved their undoing though as those that still had energy in them found themselves swayed to the other side. Leaving but a small handful of tired union members that threw their hands up in surrender.

"Fine. Ya'll wanna fight this? Go ahead, but we're done. We're packin' up and leavin' to greener pastures."

"Fine! Go ahead and leave! But don't think after all's been said and done that you lot can stroll back in and get work after we win!" The younger ringleader called out as his growing group of supporters got more and more invigorated.

They cheered and jeered as those tired members drank down the last of their drinks and made their way home in order to made good on their promises to leave Somewhere. The stranger made to speak again now that he had a ready audience, only to find the young ringleader doing it for him!

"Bill was right! These are OUR jobs! We and our families were the ones that fought, bled, and even died for the rights of the workin' man! We ain't gonna let a bunch of scabs, no matter how in need they may be, take what we are owed! We ain't gonna let the feds or military push us aside!"

Cheers and roars of approval filled the air, leaving the stranger to watch for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and turning to leave. He could hear plans for striking the major road between the hub and the rest of town as well as targeting workplaces that employed the newcomers instead of locals as the door closed behind him.

That went... well, the man thought more than a little confused. He didn't exactly have high hopes of succeeding. Even less as his own accent and manner of speech kept poking through despite a refresher course with the boss just before coming here. So he was more than a little surprised, and not the least bit grateful, that there were those among the union members that wanted some action!

He'll just not mention that he almost blew his cover to his boss. The plan worked and the locals were in the right mood and mindset to take action. From the sounds of it, more than a few might be coming to the Estate with intentions of becoming bugbears for some added muscle.

He could see the appeal. Big, muscular, some nice bit of fur for the increasing cold. But the legs and arms were too long and gangly for his liking and the fur looked like a pain to maintain. So he'll stick with being just a regular old human!

"Nice trick you pulled in there." A voice called out from around the corner.

The man turned and looked at the voice and saw the seasoned union member leader. The man smirked and shrugged.

"Don't know what you're talkin' about."

"Sure you don't. Just mark my words, I don't know who your workin' for or why. But the last thing you want is the unions gettin' this much in a fit."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because union folk ain't exactly the most clear-headed of folk. Things tend to get... messy when we get heated."

"Maybe that's what some people want." The man stated simply.

"Maybe. Still, don't say I didn't warn you." The former union boss warned before making his way home.

The man scoffed and turned to head back towards the Estate. He knew damn well what he was doing. Or at least he knew what his boss told him. Anything else wasn't his problem, he thought as he whistled a tune and made his way back to report a job well done.

-----

Duval Estate.

The sisters waited outside the bedroom door as Mortimer continued to fornicate with the goblin maids. They knew of course. While the door was thick, neither they nor the obvious attempts at masking the sounds of pleasure were quiet.

Yet the sisters didn't care. Why would they? It was normal for a chief to take many consorts to secure a future heir for the tribe. While some might think it would make succession a messy business when the chief died, ogre tribes tended to have pretty high mortality rates. The areas they called home, hills and mountains mostly, meant that they came into contact with all sorts of creatures that could pierce even an ogre's thick hide.

Rocs, giants, manticores, razor-fanged cats, just to name the more common. In certain areas there were even feral ogres or other wildkin that lurked and hunted former kin. In any case, having more than one heir was common and even actively sought after.

Were the sisters upset? No. Were they sad it wasn't them in there tending to Mortimer's wounds? Yes. But as simple as they may be, they knew enough to know that they were not built for tender care and treatment. That didn't make them feel any better though.

Although, they may have other problems to worry about. Mainly the fact that they may be going into a defensive period soon. This was a period in a female ogre's life that during pregnancy they'll turn violent and hostile as a deterrent towards any that may harm the developing young inside the womb.

Rival wives seeking to exploit the vulnerable state of the pregnant female, other males seeking to end an enemy's line, wild predators. Anything really was seen as a threat when in such a state. Even their own mates weren't safe! So the two sisters looked at one another.

"Do you feel it?"

"Maybe? But it wouldn't be this soon. Would it?"

"Don't know. Half-ogre?"

The two sisters hummed in thought at that. Their offspring, if they truly were with child, wouldn't be a full ogre. Which means that the gestation period may be sooner than a typical ogre pregnancy. If so, what did that mean for their defensive periods? Would they still come but not as strong or last as long?

They weren't sure. It was the first half-ogre either of them would have and this was new to them. They were taught the same lessons in motherhood and childbearing by the village midwife as any other female ogres were. But she didn't exactly explain the difference between a birth of a half-ogre and a full ogre.

So the two were left in contemplative confusion as they both tried to feel the biological changes happening within. Trying their best to determine if they were with child and if it was perhaps time to seclude themselves someplace safe in the meantime. Of course if it was, they would have to figure out how to keep Mortimer safe. From them and everything else in the meantime.

The sisters sighed. Male ogres were boisterous and braggarts by nature. They loved telling tales and fighting and took any chance to do either or even both at the same time! Yet Morty, despite being human, had a terrible knack for getting into trouble when he was not at all capable of matching words with fists!

They knew he could fight. They were there when he fought and defeated their former orcish master! But that was different compared to now. The goblins were scared little things that would follow anything bigger and meaner than them and the ogres held no loyalty to the orc. But the enemies Morty was making weren't the same. Some were entire groups that held a grudge against him and they doubt defeating their leader would keep him safe from any form of retribution.

So what were they to do if they were going to be entering a defensive period? The goblins on their own wouldn't be enough. Not like they trusted them to his safety anyway. The Red Caps maybe, but could the sisters really trust them? They liked to claim they weren't goblins anymore, and were even better than goblins. But was that enough for them?

The sisters sighed and continued to wait. Not like they had anything else to do. Not like they'd leave even if they did. They swore to protect Morty and that is what they'll do. Ogres might be many things. Gluttons, simple, violent, but they stuck to their word! There was a fine line between being called a liar and being an embellisher in ogre culture. The latter got you praise and drink for an over-the-top story. The former got you gutted and roasted on a spit. There was no worse insult to an ogre than being called a liar or even a traitor. If an ogre gave their word they stuck to it until it was done, the ogre died, or the contractor did.

So they'll remain in front of the door. Listening to the strange and loud music inside as it did a rather poor job of masking the sounds of Morty making love to the goblin maids looking after him. Wishing they weren't quite as big and clumsy that they could look after Morty in his time of need. As well as determining if they were with child, and how long it would be before their defensive periods kicked in and they became a threat to him.