Undertale: Fallen Angel

Escalation

"Come on, kid, pick up the phone..."

After several more seconds of ringing, Neil's request is denied when he hears from the cellular device pressed against his ear:

"Hey, this is Frisk! Sorry I couldn't come to the phone, please leave a message."

Even over a voicemail, they're super polite.

Dejected, he lowers the cellphone. If the first seven calls went unanswered, he doubts an eighth would be any different.

"Gotta hand it to Frisk," a voice says from across the room. "Their timing is just impeccable."

If the tone of the mayor's voice isn't enough to indicate sarcasm, the irritation written all over his wrinkled face practically screams it. The elderly man remains situated on his brown desk made up of Amazon Rosewood. On it rests various stacks of paperwork, most of which aren't due for completion in hours.

Prior to the current occupant's reign, the office had few decorations worthy of note. Most humans who filled the role of mayor found themselves too caught up in the welfare of Mirstone to leisurely decorate. Not this one. Somehow, he found time to do both, unapologetically exerting his care for appearances.

In the center of the room are two, well-furnished purple armchairs facing each other. A round, black coffee table sits between them, supporting various tea glasses. Gracefully positioned portraits showcasing past human royalty and iconic art pieces crowd the tan walls. A pleasant fragrance hangs in the air, contributing to the setting's professionalism.

"Remind me, Neil, what's the point of a monster ambassador if they're not around to... I don't know... ambass?"

The mayor takes a sip of rosemary tea, eyes fixated on a window to his left shrouded by brown curtains. Outside the barrier of glass is a sea of voices.

"They must have their hands full," Neil concludes, turning to face his boss.

"Don't I know it," the mayor mumbles, rising off of his desk and walking off to the side. "I've seen a great many disasters in my time. You've been with me for some of them. Trying to find the necessary living space for a whole new population we've been at war with for centuries proved quite a stressful task. But let me tell you something..."

Angrily, he yanks the curtains away, nearly tearing them from the window frame. On the other side of the unveiled glass awaits a mob from which the demanding voices originate. Every person in the crowd is a monster, making it easy to ascertain the cause of their uproar.

"Fiasco doesn't begin to describe our current predicament."

Neil finds it hard to disagree.

"Sir, I suggest we wait for Frisk's assistance," he proposes. "These monsters trust them. They see that child as a savior. Let them work on an official statement while we coordinate our efforts to find the murderer at large."

"You think it's that easy?" The mayor asks, facing the city administrator.

"Well, anything is easier said than done. But right now, these people are feeling targeted, and rightfully so. Their idol was murdered out in the open and a monster-centric restaurant became grounds for a slaughter. None of this can be a coincidence. What they need is justice-"

"What WE need is to get ahead of this while we can. It's like you said, those monsters feel attacked. Cornered. What happens when you corner an animal, Neil?"

Confused as to what the senior is getting at, Niel asks him:

"Do you fear an uprising?"

"Pfft, please," the mayor scoffs. "Need I remind you how a monster's soul compares to ours? Let them come at us with sticks and stones, they won't break MY bones."