Thunderlight

(Cont.) Selfish

"Oi! Get out here, you lousy, no good bastards! I know you're in there!"

It's not the worst wake-up call Montgomery's ever had, but at the very least it's top ten.

Grumpy and disoriented, Montgomery squints his eyes open and immediately regrets it when the sun burns in his vision. He groans, displeased as an angry fist pounds viciously on Bela's front door. Wide-Awake-Montgomery would at least recognize the potential danger of a furious stranger pounding on his door. His groggy, weary self is much less considerate of the threat.

"Go away," he moans, tucking his face against Hilda's leg. Not very comfortable, but effective for blocking out light.

Beside him, Lenny pops up a sleepy head. "Huh? Mott? What's happening?"

He barely registers that Bela is standing beside the door, tense. "It's the mercenary boss. He's... pretty upset about us breaking out and taking stuff."

Montgomery waves a hand angrily, as if it will get the krookodile to leave them alone. Annoyingly, the rabid knocking persists.

Nervously, Bela starts, "What should we—?"

CRASH!

Dust and wood splinters and suffocating stench rush in through the shattered door. If he wasn't awake before, he's at full attention now. In the broken doorway stands the krookodile, filling up the entire space and seething. At his sides, his mercenaries scowl and spit. He gnashes his teeth, infuriated.

"Y'all owe me some payments," he snarls, his voice a low growl. "The money and the bandanas; cough 'em up."

Skittish, Bela stammers, "We—we don't have the money."

"Oh? Is that so?" The krookodile sneers, gesturing to his henchmen. "Well, I guess I'll just have to give you some incentive to find it."

With a sharp nod, the mercenaries run off into the town. As soon as they see a townsperson or a breakable object, they shove it to the ground. People cry out as they're pushed around, and yelps of surprise ring after shatters of glass. Bela, gapes, horrified at the scene.

They're just... trashing the town. More than they already have.

Montgomery could be outraged at their pettiness if he wasn't internally rolling his eyes at their immaturity.

"H-hey! Cut that out!" Bela protests, trying to push past the boss to stop the others. With a meaty claw, he grabs her by the neck and throws her back. She staggers and falls against Hilda, who's slowly stirring from her deep slumber. Pushing herself back to her feet, she cries, "You swore to protect us!"

"We had an arrangement," the boss states, the words rumbling deep in his throat. "You pay us, we protect you. But y'all decided to get sneaky on us and steal from right under our noses!"

"One of my people needed medicine to save her son; I beg you, have a little empathy—"

"Empathy ain't shit, sweetheart," he rasps, and if he was smoking a cigar Montgomery is sure he would've blown all the smoke in their faces at this point. "Economics is where it's at."

Outside, the sound of wailing grows louder as more goods and homes are smashed. Bela stares at the boss with a blank, empty expression.

Then, she narrows her eyes. She snarls.

With a furious battle cry, she charges the krookodile head-on, slamming her skull into his soft belly.

He wheezes as the wind is knocked out of him, stumbling out of the house and flailing for something to hold onto. He manages to grip a nearby, rickety pole that barely supports a platform of ceramic jars. The momentum rips the pole out from the ground and sends to jars toppling to the dirt, smashing them into jagged bits. Slipping, the krookodile falls into the pile of shattered glass, hissing in pain as it cuts into his skin. The fury in Bela's eyes doesn't abate.