In His Wildest Dreams [Remix]


Gender: Male

Kit: Techno

Location: Kansas City, MO


Alignment: Villain

Team: Solo Villain


Strength: standard (rank 1)

Agility: standard (rank 1)

Mind: standard (rank 1)

Body: standard (rank 1)

Spirit: (rank )

Charisma: (rank )


Infamy Points: -23

Personal Wins: 59

Personal Losses: 60

Team Wins: 0

Team Losses: 0

Tourney Wins: 0

Tourney Losses: 0


Status: Active

Tristan 2010

Tony Richards was a broken man, in so many ways. We could go into the long sad story of him and a father who never accepted him, we could go into his mind-numbing job that gave him no satisfaction, we could talk about his fiancé. Oh, lord knows we could talk for hours about Jeanne. He would have said she was his inspiration and comfort - when really she was too high maintenance and high-strung for him. Really, she was. The fight was her fault, not that Tony would ever believe that. She threw the ring back at him. Means anything that happens afterwards is fair game, right?

Tony left the apartment, got himself drunk, and got his rebound on with a hot girl named Sara.

Only thing is Jeanne acted like the fight never happened, and the next day, she picked back up where they had left off, and Tony didn't tell her about Sara... until Jeanne met Sara at some coffee shop and Jeanne started showing off engagement photos. A guy with a little more spine would have told Jeanne that it wasn't cheating. A guy with a little more self-respect would have told Jeanne to shut her pie-hole. Hell, a guy with some balls wouldn't have let Jeanne put the ring back on once she had thrown it at him. Tony wasn't quite that guy. So when Jeanne read him the riot act, called him every dirty name under the sun, and threw in a few bitch-slaps across the face, Tony took it. And took it to heart. Never tried to get Jeanne back. Figured that bridge was burned, napalmed, and nuked. But he spent way too much time obsessing over his own failings and fantasizing about how he'd get her back.

You know, most girls, from about the time they're four years old, fantasize about their wedding. Play it over in their mind over and over and over again. Most boys, from about the time they're four years old, fantasize about being the hero in their own over-the-top action movie. (Ok, when they're about thirteen, they start alternating between that fantasy and the ones that air on premium channels after midnight.) Tony's action movie starring himself usually started with him fighting to defend Jeanne and usually ended with him wounded - grievously wounded - as if nothing short of blood would atone his perceived misdeeds - with a grateful Jeanne forgiving his wrongs and taking him back.

Sad. Isn't it.


There are no rules of engagement in fantasies. Anyone that stands in Tony’s way is a target. Jeanne must be protected, rescued, saved. God, it’s so pathetic. Seriously, I don’t know if he needs therapy, a lobotomy, a night of getting shit faced drunk, or if he just needs to get laid. My money’s on “get laid”, but, hell, what do I know. I’m just Andy. I’m just his wingman, his best friend, his confidant, whatever. A long time ago, Tony saved my ass, and I guess I still owe him. Hell, maybe I’m just as dysfunctional as him, but that’s another story.


Fantasies of Steel and Lead

     Piercing Weapon: superior (rank 2)

  • Ranged Attack
  • Multi-Attack


His old man was a cop. Tactical. Expert with all sorts of things with triggers. Had a nice little collection of them. Hell, could have just about started World War III with the shit in his armory. Except the old man uses the same four digit combination for the garage door as he does for his gun cabinets. So, if Tony ever needed a high capacity semi-automatic shotgun and shells, or a fully automatic assault rifle with folding stock, or a pair of desert eagle 50s, he knew where to get them. And because Tony told me the four digit code – what idiot uses the year he was born as a garage door code, much less an armory code – I know where to get them too. Now, if only I could find his dad’s ATM card, I could go shopping.


The color left his life

     Armor: standard (rank 1)


Black. Every damn piece of clothing Tony wears is black. Stupid black boots, stupid black jeans, stupid black shirt, stupid black ballcap, and a stupid black leather jacket. I mean, for crying out loud, what’s wrong with working in a few different colors. I don’t know if he thinks it makes him look badass or goth or what, but I almost called in a couple fashion designers to put him on a “what not to wear” show. Funny thing is, the bullet proof vests he’d steal from his dad’s if the shit ever hit the fan, they’re black too. Oh, wait, it’s that stupid poem he wrote about how Jeanne “took all the color” out of his life. If I wasn’t Tony’s friend, I’d have to smack the stupid out of him.


Fraternity Softball League

     Crushing Weapon: standard (rank 1)


It’s funny. The first time Tony and I met was at a fraternity softball game. We both have the metal bats from that day, dinged up from many nights at batting cages venting work, family, and relational frustrations at lobs thrown by machines. It’s awful scary to think of Tony taking a baseball bat to somebody’s head, but he’d do it if he thought Jeanne was in danger. In fact, I almost think he’d get off on it.


And this, my friends, is the kicker

     Mental Defense: superior (rank 2)


Here’s the kicker. About six months ago, somebody had the bright idea to come up with a virtual reality console. The E-Volution. It wasn't cheap, but since Tony didn't have a girlfriend to buy candy/jewelry/flowers for, nor a therapist to charge him $200 an hour to let him vent his deep seated angst, there was plenty of room in the budget for one of them. And of course, the first game he bought for it was BCT: Vindication. Seems that the one happy memory he had was playing the old BARE CHESTED THUGS™ at his next door neighbor's house.

Let's think about this for just a second. We take an emotionally fragile and somewhat mentally disturbed guy who's never been shot at with anything more than a squirt gun and put him in a virtual reality world where he's getting shot at from forty different directions by a hundred different virtual bad guys, with shit blowing up all over the place. Anybody else see the problem with this?

He really shouldn't have started on "BCT: Hardcore Badasses Only" difficulty. Should have probably started with "BCT: No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem" rookie level, or the moderate "BCT: Shirts vs. Skins".

That by itself wouldn't have been so bad, if he hadn't tried the "Player Two" mode that created a BCT level out of his own mind. Seriously trippy shit. Instead of playing a map in some unreal technobop megaopolis, his mind created a map out of his own hometown. Really bad idea.

Yeah. Fried his brain. Except he didn't quite realize it. He's not sure whether he's still in the game or not. He’s convinced Jeanne is in danger, and he’s already stopped by his dad’s. I’m afraid anyone who gets in his way is going to wind up dead.