It was winter, the kind of winter that made the New England suburbs sparkle. Snow-covered roofs, festive lights twinkling on every home, and the scent of pine needles and hot cocoa wafting from the windows of the quaint town of Mapleford. It was peaceful, too peaceful for Robot and Zombie, the two local menaces who stuck out like a metal thumb in a soft, warm mitten.

Robot, all five feet of grungy metal, strutted through the town square. His black Obituary T-shirt flapped in the winter wind, ripped jeans stiff from the cold, and a flannel tied around his waist for no apparent reason other than “style.” His beanie was pulled low over his head, and he was yelling out to nobody in particular.

“THIS TOWN AIN’T READY FOR THE MIND OF A GENIUS! No one appreciates the vision, Z!” Robot waved his arms wildly, though Zombie—who stood a couple inches taller but seemed to stoop perpetually—barely registered the rant.

Zombie, his Slayer shirt covered in frost and his jeans trailing in the snow, muttered something unintelligible, though it was likely just the last word Robot had shouted. The slow shuffling of his feet made small indentations in the snow, and his mouth opened now and again, as if considering putting Robot’s head in it. Again.

“Genius! Yeah, me!” Robot continued, “They don’t see the brilliance in disrupting this so-called winter wonderland. They think they’re so smart, Z. But we’re going to show them! They wanna keep me down? NOT TODAY!”

Mapleford’s town square was picturesque: there was a snow-covered clock tower, holiday decorations hanging from every lamppost, and the local teens loitering around the mall entrance. A giant Christmas tree sat at the center of the square, surrounded by townspeople taking pictures and sipping hot drinks.

It was everything Robot despised: organized, peaceful, and worst of all, content.

“Look at these clowns! Drinking their overpriced coffee and wearing their J.Crew sweaters. Thinkin’ they’re better than me, when they can’t even handle a snowball fight, Z!” Robot scooped up a handful of snow, compressed it into a ball, and launched it with surprising precision at a nearby couple.

The snowball exploded across the back of the man’s head, and he whipped around angrily, but Robot had already ducked behind a snowbank, shoving Zombie into the cold powder.

“HA! You see that, Z? That’s how you do it!” Robot stood up, brushing snow off his beanie, his face smug with self-satisfaction. Zombie emerged from the snowbank, a chunk of snow still dangling from his hair, mouth slightly open as he stared at Robot.

Zombie blinked, then slowly, almost ponderously, reached down and grabbed a handful of snow, attempting to mimic Robot’s antics. But instead of throwing it, he absentmindedly pressed the snow to his own face, as if trying to eat it.

“Oh, great, Z. Real helpful,” Robot scoffed. “We’re supposed to be terrorizing the town, not making snow cones outta your skull.”

Just then, the local teens—Cathy, Vanessa, Cindy, Todd Burkin, and Ben Corbin—spotted them from across the square.

“Ugh, not them again,” Cathy muttered, rolling her eyes. “Hey, Robot! Why don’t you go bother someone else for a change?”

“Or, better yet, stop existing,” Cindy added, flipping her hair as if to punctuate the insult. “This town’s way too nice for someone like you.”

Robot puffed out his chest, putting on his usual air of false bravado. “What can I say? The town needs a little spice! A little flavor! What’re you all doing, sipping hot cocoa and staring at your perfect little lives? Boring!”

“Better than being a useless scrap heap!” Ben shouted back, his preppy jacket barely covering his entitled sneer. “Don’t you have something better to do, like... failing at another get-rich-quick scheme?”

Zombie, who had been eyeing Todd’s head with a bit too much interest, took a lumbering step forward. “Head...” he muttered, the single word causing Todd to step back in alarm.

“Hey, Z, no heads today,” Robot snapped, though he couldn’t help but laugh. “We’re on a mission, remember?”

Vanessa raised an eyebrow and nudged Zombie with her shoulder. “You’re cute, Z. I could help you—if Robot wasn’t always in the way.”

“Oh please, you think you can handle this kind of genius?” Robot interrupted, throwing his arms out wide. “Nobody can handle me! I’m the king of chaos! The king of—"

“Getting smacked with snowballs?” Cathy deadpanned, cutting him off as the teens, now armed with snowballs of their own, began lobbing them in Robot’s direction.

“RUN, Z!” Robot yelped, ducking and dodging the incoming barrage, only to trip on his own baggy jeans and face-plant in the snow. Zombie, true to form, just stood there, snowballs hitting him without eliciting much reaction beyond a slow blink.

As the teens laughed and tossed more snowballs, Robot scrambled back to his feet, his face red with both embarrassment and cold.

“You’ll see!” Robot shouted, shaking his fist as he hurried toward the edge of the square. “I’ll be back with a plan! A BRILLIANT PLAN!”

Zombie followed behind, still muttering about heads and occasionally glancing at a particularly interesting icicle on a lamppost.

In the end, Robot’s grand scheme amounted to little more than tying himself up in Christmas lights while trying to sabotage the town’s holiday festival. The next morning, the townspeople found him dangling from the town’s Christmas tree, muttering about conspiracies and government plots to keep his genius hidden.

As always, Zombie was there, quietly chewing on a candy cane he’d swiped from a store display, completely unbothered by the chaos surrounding them.

And as the first light snowfall of the new day began to blanket the square, Mapleford, for all its peace and charm, continued to weather the storm of Robot and Zombie’s endless, frozen mayhem.