As discussed previously, we're working from Simon Fletcher's InkTober prompts, specifically the fifth group of four from the Steampunk list - The Portuguese Count, The Pickpocket Boys, "Rusty", and "Wings".
Page 1
1 - We're looking at a Money Box / dragon horde-level of gold, treasure, gems, and various valuables. Maybe a focus on the riches, but also show two sets of feet and legs (belonging to Wings and Rusty) standing towards the top or side of the panel, along with a waterfall of new prizes raining down onto the already sizable collection (as Wings and Rusty are pouring their latest loot to join the rest).
WINGS (off-panel): Hey Rust...
2 - Flashback. Wings (who is a woman with artificial insect wings and goggles that give her the appearance of having compound eyes) is flying away from a party filled with rich socialites carrying two bags filled with valuables that she has stolen. The (now poorer looking) elites stand good-naturedly, resigned to the fact that there was nothing they could have done.
CAPTION (WINGS) "...do you ever worry that we've gotten too good at thieving?"
SOCIALITE 1: There's no way we could possibly stop her
SOCIALITE 2: We may as well forget about this and move on with our lives.
3 - Back at the treasure horde, but now focused on Wings and Rusty. Rusty is a sturdy looking robot that is made of a rusting metal (maybe copper so you can get that nice dull brown and old greens). Wings looks a little disappointed, while Rusty is looking pensive.
RUSTY: You know, now that you mention it...
4 - Flashback. Rusty is holding up a bank, but the manager has opened the vault and is directing Rusty in. Some other members of the bank stuff are happily filling bags with money and other riches. Rusty has turned one of his hands into a weapon of some variety, but it's mostly forgotten in his surprise and disbelief.
CAPTION (RUSTY): "...I think it might be a real concern."
RUSTY: Are you sure I can't threaten you or something?
BANK STAFF: Naw, that's fine.
MANAGER: Yeah, we've already made our peace that, in a world where you ply your trade, that money was never really ours.
Next page.
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