An 'Interlude' to ACT-2 | Glimpses of the 'Restart' Timeline | They are not in any form of order -

The city was a perpetually busy kind of thing. From the moment one woke up, to the moment they went to sleep, something was always happening. Good things, like getting out of bed to discover your asshole neighbor had been evicted. To bad things, like discovering the cost of rent was going up again, despite it already being too damn high.

This was the reality of the sentient flame monster staring at the sheets of magic-paper that had graced his mail for the day. The purple fire flickering some, before calmly and reasonably, igniting the notice. He got up from the couch.

"You're going to be late." He said, rubbing his throat some, while wandering towards the kitchen.

Another voice called back. "Ughhh, I know!"

Opening the hot fridge, he looked through it. The contents were made up of three different things. Leftover foods, in dark bags that read 'Grillbys.' A set of beers along the bottom shelf, of disparate types. And a container of Malk.

He took one of the black bags, and set it on the counter. Before grabbing a beer. Pushing it against the counter, he popped the top, Glancing over at a clock on the wall.

"Being late means you don't get to see that 'friend' of yours either." He added.

"Oh my god, Dad, I KNOW" The other voice yelled, as a door slammed. "Can you just not!?"

The fire-monster glanced back, and remarked. "I cannot, not."

An emerald fire-monster wearing a less kept school uniform started walking towards the door. Groaning and complaining while typing on her phone. He held up one of the black bags of foodstuffs.

"I am not eating that." She replied. "Just give me cash, I'll but food somewhere."

He considered this and spoke. "Nope, paying rent today."

She stared at him, stepped over and took the bag from his hand. "Whatever."

"Have a good day." He replied, taking a drink, as his flame dimmed some.

She didn't respond, just slammed the front door and left. He sighed a little. Internally noting that he hated teenagers. Loved his daughter, but hated her being one.

Finishing his drink, he stepped out of the kitchen. Heading back into the living room to look himself over briefly. He was wearing the same pants he had on the day before, and a plain shirt. Sighing some, before glancing over at the chair in the living room. It was presently overflowing with laundry. He brushed back the flames on his head, and headed over to it.

Digging around for a moment, before picking out a heavy black jacket. Pulling it on, he noted he would need to actually do the laundry today. It had been put off long enough. His eyes glancing around the apartment, which thankfully was cleaner than not. Minus the chair. It had become a catch all, and he was annoyed by that.

Heading out for the day, he stepped out to the temperate air of the place he called home. A big annoying sign dead ahead of his view at the street side of the apartment complex. It read 'Golden Grove Apartments' and had something on the bottom about it being a 'welcoming place' or something. He didn't really care.

Heading to the elevator on the side, he stepped in. Heading down. Someone already inside, talking loudly on their phone. Laughing obnoxiously at some joke or something. This person was his upstairs neighbor. An obnoxious monster who he was thrilled was getting the boot. The sphinx-being rambling on and on until they finally reached ground level.

He fled from the area with quick steps. Passing by rows of flowers. Purple, red, gold, making up the various flowerpots there. The light of day casting a twilight glow across the place. It was a beautiful place, the underground. However...once he got out on the street and started walking to his destination, it was a little less friendly looking.

There was a great deal of cluttered and compact buildings. Businesses dotting the place. With neon signs, or billboards of their own. Some monsters even wandering around with signs to bother people. One coming up to him as he walked, to try and advertise a restaurant.

The internal countdown was one he had memorized though, and kept walking. Exactly one minute later, coming to a humble restaurant building. At least compared to some of the ones around here. Like the one that resembled an actually pan. Complete with handle, that stretched over top of the street. He hated that one.

It didn't have anything to do with selling pans, or cooking, or anything kitchen related. In truth, they sold radios. How those things related, and why they chose a building of that style, he didn't know. It hurt his head, and he didn't want to know.

Opening the tavern-style restaurant he started towards the counter. Getting himself prepared for the day. Hoping it'd be busier at least. And there he waited, for the first couple hours with no real visitors. He had nearly dozed off at the counter when the bell jingled.

"heh, wow, can you believe this place. rundown, so tacky, and the own, tsk. guys a real hothead." A familiar voice commented, as a lab-coat wearing skeleton, short and stout wandered up to the bar. "heys grillby, how ya doin?"

Grillby made a motion with hands hands. "Poorly."

"throat still doing that thing?" The skeleton asked, taking a seat.

"Yes." Grillby motioned. "It has helped, by the way."

The short skeleton with the perpetual smile, actually smiled. "Oh, has it?"

Grillby had been given something by his most frequent customer. A medication based on some rare plant. He didn't know the specifics, only that it had made speaking a lot more bearable. And above that, generally less painful.

Grillby spoke. "Yes." The feeling was like daggers, albeit muted daggers now. A vast improvement. "Thank you Sans."

Sans, the skeleton chuckled some. "Well-" his tone improved. "I'm glad to hear it pal." It didn't last. "mind if I get two burgs?"

"Burgers?" The fire-monster motioned in sign language.

"burg has a nicer ring to it." Sans shuckled.

"It really doesn't." Grillby replied in amusement. "Just a minute."

Making the burgers wasn't too complicated. A quick step into the kitchen. A little bit of adjustment for the right heat. And in a few moments, he had made two burgers. He also took out some fries that hadn't sold the day before. Reheating those, before bringing the plate holding them all back out.

Sliding them in front of Sans, the skeleton hummed. "wow, free fries?"

"They didn't sell." Grillby motioned. "So now, you get free fries."

Sans used sign language for a moment. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Grillby replied, leaning back and letting out a sigh.

Well, it wasn't gonna be the busiest day. But at least his best customer was around. Sans was a friendly guy, and his position usually meant people wanted to come talk to him. Which usually drove people to the restaurant if nothing else.

However, Grillby heard his phone buzz some. Taking it out, while raising a brow. He was being called by by the person he was leasing from. That was never a good sign. The skeleton noticing his anxious expression, as he answered the phone.

The city was a funny thing. It had a sense of justice that was always biased. A sense of humor that was almost always cruel.

But then, the world tended to be. The phone closing as the monster placed his arms on the counter. His friend asking, and him answering.

Yet, it wasn't the city's fault. The world was a cruel place. You could fight as hard as you wanted, as long as you could, but it didn't matter. The game was rigged, and you were going to lose.

And when that happened, what else could one do? But eat a couple of burgs, and laugh at it with a friend?