[img] https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019b532d-b125-70e0-a383-1fba557a2858.webp[/img][b][center][i][sup]THREE DAYS TILL[/sup][/i][h1]CHRISTMAS[/h1][/center][/b]
[hr]
[hr]

Booze flowing, music blasting and another piece of unsold furniture was crushed under the weight of the lumbering android. One would think getting some sketchy piece of what was probably super villain tech working would be difficult. For the Omega Syndicate though it was as simple as reading the binder that accompanied the machine. Put on the goggles & gloves and take a seat while you use VR to crush a chesterfield in altered reality. The crew cheered as the jerky movements of the droid under the control of puck brought the fist back up to show the wreckage. As much fun as this was though, there was a creeping idea concurrently growing withing the heads of everyone.

"Hey guys, how're we offloading this thing?" Henery finally said as the hype began to calm down. They'd still only scratched the surface of machine's capabilities but Henry's concern about harbouring stolen tech like this in an abode with his name on the lease was warranted. All eyes turned to Pierre (including Puck's current camera based view) who seemed just as stumped.

"Selling hot dressers is a whole other league than selling a robot."

"Come on man, you got-"

"No 'come on man' Puck. I don't even know where to start with this. I go around asking any of my usual buyers about this we'll end up getting robbed, killed or both." Pierre retorted as Puck began taking off the controller.

"What about a ransom? Find out who owned it before and-" 

"We know what a ransom is Roger." Pierre retorted, sitting down on the crushed Chesterfield and placing his beer can on the ground. Despite the still mostly jovial feeling in the air, the stress of having such a potentially danger item seemed to be aging Pierre right before the groups eyes.

"Ransoming's just as dangerous. Who knows what psycho made this thing and what else they've got to get it back with. I'm not all too keen to get crushed myself." Pierre finished, chin resting on his palm as his fingers idly tapped his face in contemplation. Everyone else found similar positions to think in, all except Henry who paced the room. The music was still blaring, becoming more of a distraction than anything, leading Henry's pacing towards the sound system (bluetooth speaker)'s controls on the dinner table as he did though his eyes lit up a bit as they locked onto an envelope. Picking up the paper, Henry approached the group once more. 

"How about we stop settling and use this thing to go for the full monty?"

"What's Pierre's sister's favourite movie got to do with the robot?" Puck interjected, not understanding what Henry was getting at.

"The fuck're you talking about my sister for man? What's Henry's movie gotta do with Shelia?"

"Guys that not the poi-" Puck's attention was lost by Henry as he turned to Pierre.

"It's that British one. Where all the old men do a strip show 'casue their outta work."

"Gotcha, gotcha. Bit of a dud, that dig Puck"

"Fuck you." 

"Henry wants us to do a strip show with the robot-?" Roger asked, getting more confused by the moment.

"[i]No![/i]" Henry called out in frustration, tossing the envelope on the floor for everyone to see. Despite the confusion around the significance of the 1997 British comedy, all of them immediately understood what Henry was trying to say. 

"Hell no. Are you crazy? We're trying to find ways to not get killed." Pierre firmly stated, his eyes darting around the room to make sure everyone was on the same page. Everyone except him seemed to be. Smiles reached their eyes as spirits once more got higher (both metaphysically and the mixed drinks in the men's hands).

"Gonna need to do some prep but this'll be big league stuff. No more spending our nights watching TV in a cold garage and sharing a barracks." Henry said, still pitching his idea to the already captive audience. Pierre was thinking sensibly; of course they couldn't do this; like he'd said before this was a completely different league than what they were used to. However, a part of him also was getting sick of how things in the city had seemed to stagnate for the group. He knew he wasn't going to convince anyone, that was obvious, so might as well join in now before he became the stick in the mud. His gaze rested on the bank statement on the floor before he spoke.

"Fuck it, yeah fine. I call dibs on-"

"Dibs getaway driver!" Puck yelled out, hand shooting for the sky.

"Dibs on the robot!" Roger followed up, eyeing the machine greedily. 

[hr]
[color=silver][sup][right][i]ISSUE 1: BOXED AND WRAPPED[/i][/right][/sup][/color]