It was winter in the idyllic town of Fenton Hollow, Connecticut. Snow blanketed the streets, turning the upscale New England homes into picturesque postcards of winter serenity. Icicles clung to the roofs, and the air was crisp with the scent of pine and wood smoke. It was the kind of place where families gathered around fireplaces, sipping hot chocolate while admiring the pristine snow from their windows. Peaceful. Perfect.

But peace never lasted long with Robot and Zombie around.

Robot trudged through the snow, his tiny mechanical feet leaving chaotic imprints as he kicked up slush in his path. He wore his usual attire—ripped jeans, a flannel tied around his waist, and an Obituary T-shirt that had clearly seen better days. A black beanie clung to his head as if defying the cold, though Robot often boasted he didn’t feel temperatures because he was “too hardcore for weather.”

Behind him lumbered Zombie, his Slayer T-shirt torn and stained, ripped jeans sagging below his knees, and his chain wallet jingling with each slow step. His black beanie was crooked, his shoulder-length hair sticking out in patches from underneath. Every so often, Zombie would groan, shuffle closer to Robot, and make an attempt to stick Robot’s head into his mouth.

“Hey, hey, Z, knock it off!” Robot shouted, swatting Zombie’s hand away. “I know I’m irresistible, but try to control yourself, okay? I’ve got big plans today. We’re gonna make some real money, and I’m not talking about the kind of chump change those losers in this town live off. I’m talking about big-time, baby.”

Zombie groaned something that sounded vaguely like “money” before his attention shifted back to trying to gnaw on Robot’s head.

The duo made their way to Fenton Hollow's center, where the town square had been turned into a winter wonderland. Children skated on a frozen pond, families built snowmen, and teenagers loitered near the holiday lights strung around trees.

Robot surveyed the scene with a smug grin. “Look at these idiots, Z. This town is ripe for the picking. Rich people. Rich kids. They think they’re so great with their perfect lives. Well, guess what? I’m about to ruin all of that!”

Zombie, as usual, remained silent, except for the occasional attempt to bite Robot’s head.

“First order of business,” Robot said, cracking his knuckles. “We’re gonna scam some dumb rich kid out of their money. Then, I’ll use that cash to launch my new business idea. It’s genius—‘Robot’s Extreme Winter Sports Rentals.’ Snowboards, sleds, whatever. They won’t even know what hit ’em!”

Robot’s attention shifted to Todd Burkin, who was ambling across the square in his usual slow, plodding way. Todd was tall, dull-eyed, and wrapped in an expensive North Face jacket that screamed "my parents are loaded."

“Hey, Todd!” Robot called, striding up to him with exaggerated confidence. “You looking to invest in a sure thing? I got a business opportunity that’s gonna blow your mind.”

Todd blinked slowly. “Business…opportunity?”

“That’s right!” Robot said, throwing an arm around Todd’s shoulders like they were old pals. “For the low, low price of twenty bucks, you can be a partner in Robot’s Extreme Winter Sports Rentals. Imagine it, Todd. People will be lining up to rent my gear. You’ll be rolling in cash!”

Todd frowned, confused. “I don’t need money. My parents give me whatever I want.”

Robot’s grin faltered. “Uh, yeah, but don’t you want your own money? Something to show off to those jerks at school?”

Before Todd could respond, Zombie shuffled closer, mouth open wide. Todd stared at him in horror. “Is he…gonna eat me?”

Robot sighed dramatically. “Z, stop trying to eat the customers! We’re running a business here!”

Todd backed away, shaking his head. “I don’t think I want to invest in this.”

“Your loss, man!” Robot shouted after him, his voice laced with bitterness. “When I’m swimming in cash, don’t come begging to me for handouts!”

As Todd disappeared into the crowd, Robot scowled and kicked a pile of snow. “This town sucks, Z. No one appreciates true entrepreneurial genius anymore.”

Zombie groaned in what could have been agreement—or just hunger for brains.

Before Robot could launch into another self-congratulatory rant, three familiar teenage girls approached—Cathy, Vanessa, and Buffy. Each one eyed the duo with a mixture of amusement and disdain.

“Well, well,” Cathy sneered, hands on her hips. “If it isn’t Robot, the biggest loser in Fenton Hollow.”

“Yeah, what’s your grand scheme today, Robot?” Vanessa added, flipping her hair as she sidled up to Zombie, casting him a flirtatious glance. “Trying to sell ice to Eskimos?”

Buffy, as always, glared at Robot like he was a plague upon her beloved town. “This place would be so much better if you didn’t exist, Robot.”

Robot crossed his arms and grinned.