...At this very same moment, somewhere out there, a purpose-built emotional support Beast Head servitor, Commiserator-3000, is deeply and tragically unhappy because all he wants to do is go out into the world and beat people up, but instead he is stuck expertly and sensitively consoling the most chronically depressed hypochondriac in the local star cluster.

Fortunately, he runs off to join a crime syndicate, meets the arms dealer girl of his dreams (who deals in weaponry, cyber-arms, and cyber-arm weaponry), and blissfully lives out the rest of his life as a violent debt collector.

yo don't spoil the spin-off i was planning, now i gotta come up with a new one

Oh no! That would mean you will have to come up with ninety-seven original story premises this year, instead of the usual ninety-six!

It is a poor recompense, but I offer my services as an amateur come-upper-with-original-titles-and-stories-and-such should you need to outsource that part of your creative process in the future for that one extra plotline.
It'll go like this: I scribble up a couple paragraphs of the synopsis, and you draw out all two hundred pages of it -- an equitable collaboration.

...Or so would assume someone unfamiliar with the amount of hard work that goes into coming up with those couple of paragraphs. Anyways, my debt to you will be paid in full after that, especially since I will cede my share of the royalties to you for any future adaptation deals.

Friend 101 my dear. He's a sounding board/ear to bend. He's that shoulder...chest to cry on. You want him a citizen as you and he's a friend? That's what friends do