December 1994 – Hartford, Connecticut

A thick blanket of snow covered the streets, muffling the hustle and bustle of downtown Hartford as the city’s inhabitants trudged through the cold toward the Hartford Civic Center. Excitement buzzed in the air; the Whalers were playing that night, and the town seemed united in their eagerness for a good hockey game. However, little did they know, something far more chaotic than a friendly match was brewing nearby.

Inside the Civic Center Mall, tucked between discount department stores and holiday displays, a short, black-shirted robot and a slow, zombie-like figure were wreaking their usual havoc. Robot, dressed in a torn Obituary T-shirt, ripped jeans, and a flannel tied around his waist, strutted like he owned the place. Zombie, his faithful sidekick, lumbered along behind him, mouth slightly ajar as if forever attempting to devour the head of something, or someone.

"Z! This is it, man! The Civic Center! You know what this means?" Robot said, waving his metal arms dramatically.

"Means..." Zombie groaned, staring blankly ahead, clearly uninterested in Robot's rambling.

"It means money, fame, glory! Everyone's here for the hockey game, and they're all suckers. We’ll hit the food court, the shops, then hit the Whalers game and really take over!" Robot’s eyes gleamed with a narcissistic excitement as he rubbed his metal fingers together in anticipation.

"Game..." Zombie repeated in his usual fashion, only to be met with a sharp slap to the back of his head by Robot.

"Ugh! You don't get it! Stick with me, Z, we’re gonna live like kings tonight. Watch and learn!" Robot scanned the area, immediately spotting a group of preppy teenagers at a table in the food court.

Robot marched up to the teens, who were too absorbed in their conversation about the Whalers' playoff hopes to notice him at first. "Hey, idiots!" Robot sneered, grabbing their attention with his brashness.

Cathy, Vanessa, Cindy, and Todd Burkin all turned to face him, immediately recognizing the duo from previous misadventures. Cathy rolled her eyes. "Ugh, it's you again."

Vanessa giggled. "Hey, Zombie!" She winked at him, causing Zombie to make a low, guttural noise and lurch forward, half-heartedly attempting to bite her head off. Vanessa ducked easily, used to the move by now.

"Knock it off, Z! We're here for business!" Robot snapped, pulling Zombie back by his flannel. "Now, you bunch look like you're rich—especially you, Burkin. What's that, your parents' trust fund?" Robot pointed to Todd’s wallet sticking out of his jacket pocket.

"Get lost, metal freak," Todd grunted, standing up, only to realize Robot was barely five feet tall, much shorter than he expected.

"Oh, that’s it, Mr. Moneybags! Gimme that wallet!" Robot lunged for it, but Todd pulled back, swatting at Robot ineffectively. Zombie, in the meantime, had started chewing on the edge of Cindy’s purse, oblivious to the pandemonium starting to brew.

"What the hell are you two doing?" Cindy shrieked, yanking her purse away from Zombie’s half-hearted chomps. "This is why no one wants you around! You ruin everything!"

"That’s because they’re jealous," Robot shot back, stumbling over his own feet as Todd shoved him aside. "They can’t handle my brilliance! But they’ll see, once I’ve got this whole place under control—"

Suddenly, the glass door to one of the stores nearby shattered with a loud crash. Everyone turned in shock to see Robot standing by a now-smashed display of expensive electronics.

"Oh... that was totally on purpose," Robot stammered, puffing out his chest in an attempt to look like he meant to break the door. "We're taking this place down, baby!"

Shoppers began to scream as the security alarms blared to life. Robot, not missing a beat, ran up to Zombie. "Z, time to raid the joint!"

"Joint..." Zombie murmured, grabbing a random stack of merchandise—mostly socks and VHS tapes—and shuffling along after Robot, who was already diving into another display of Christmas-themed merchandise. Shattered ornaments and tangled lights scattered across the floor as Robot tried to carry off a large, inflatable Santa Claus.

Meanwhile, the preppy teens watched in a mix of horror and amusement. "Do they always do this?" Ben asked, his bratty tone cutting through the chaos.

"Unfortunately," Cathy groaned, "Welcome to a day in the life with Robot and Zombie."

"Alright, Z, time to bail before the fuzz shows up!" Robot yelled, struggling to carry his loot while slipping on the freshly polished mall tiles. He dropped the inflatable Santa and began to make a run for it, only to realize he had run straight into a squad of mall cops who were alerted by the sound of breaking glass.

"Whoa, whoa, hold up there, gentlemen! Let’s not be hasty—” Robot began, already sweating oil as he backpedaled away from the uniformed guards. "I mean, I didn’t technically steal anything... yet!"

Zombie stood next to Robot, munching on one of the socks he'd "liberated" from the store.

"You two! Freeze!" one of the guards barked.

"Z! Plan B! RUN!" Robot screeched, shoving Zombie toward the guards in a cowardly move.

Zombie let out a lazy moan, stumbling forward as the guards approached. One of the security officers was unprepared for Zombie’s slow, lumbering advance and panicked. "He's trying to bite me!" the officer yelped, shoving Zombie away, sending him tumbling backward into a Christmas tree display.

As lights and ornaments came crashing down, Robot made his escape, dodging between stunned shoppers and toppling a snowman-shaped kiosk as he went. He glanced back, briefly, to see Zombie tangled in holiday decorations, his beanie now askew.

"Better you than me, Z!" Robot cackled as he bolted toward the Civic Center doors. "See you at the game!"

As the mall descended into chaos, Robot burst through the entrance of the Civic Center just as the first whistle of the Whalers game blew. Breathless and disheveled, he collapsed into a seat in the upper deck, smugly adjusting his beanie.

"You know, Z," Robot muttered to himself, "I really am a genius."

Far behind him, buried under a pile of tinsel and half-crushed ornaments, Zombie finally freed himself, letting out a groan of indifference before plodding slowly toward the distant sound of the hockey game.