PERSONAL

Gender: Male

Kit: Normal

Location: On the Run from The World

AFFILIATION

Alignment: Villain

Team: Solo Villain

VITAL STATS

Strength: standard (rank 1)

Agility: standard (rank 1)

Mind: standard (rank 1)

Body: standard (rank 1)

Spirit: (rank )

Charisma: (rank )

RECORD

Infamy Points: 1220

Personal Wins: 80

Personal Losses: 14

Team Wins: 0

Team Losses: 0

Tourney Wins: 0

Tourney Losses: 0

STATUS

Status: Active

Landon

Landon, staring down at his half-eaten barbecue sandwich, sighed in his usual half-pathetic, half-sarcastic manner. How sad is it that the closest I ve had to a girlfriend in the past ten years is a chick from a dream who hit me up for some Zombie Viagra?

Landon s co-worker, someone whom Landon had forgotten wasn t used to such questions, spit a mouthful of iced tea across the table. He struggled to find some way to respond to Landon s question, but after a few moments of hesitation and fidgeting, he let out his own sigh-- one with a far more exasperated tone from Landon s-- and wordlessly excused himself from the table. Landon smirked and laughed to himself, amused that he was able to push away yet another person at work who was trying far too hard to befriend him, but you know how that sort of thing goes. You only shove away peeps like that when you re longing for an entirely different crew.

That encounter, the last of its kind Landon would have for quite some time, was the perfect microcosm for Landon s adult life. Given the way his teenaged and college years went, he never imagined that he d end up working in a white collar setting pushing paperwork, typing away, and generally dicking around from 9 to 5 to get a paycheck every two weeks that helped support his game and anime habit. Back in the day he was The Chosen One. All sorts of monstrous shit from the Dreamworld was trying to kill him, eat him, rape him, or otherwise make his life a living hell. He was the target of affection for all manners of girls, many of whom wanted to kill him, eat him, rape him or use him to sire the Antichrist. He hung with a posse of modern-day wizards, techno-geniuses, gun-toting badasses, and martial artist magical girls. The very fate of the world hinged on his decisions (Or lack thereof.), and he rather liked that lifestyle.

To a point.

Trying to destroy the world takes its toll on a guy. Yeah, you heard that right. Destroy the world. Landon was hardly a villain. When he was maniacally cackling, it wasn t because all had gone according to plan and the stars were right and No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die. He laughed maniacally quite often, but it was due to some euphoric delusion caused by a mix of elation at his lot in life and the realization that he was likely damned to a life of everlasting torture if the slightest thing went wrong in his gang s plans. He may have wanted to destroy this world, and thus kill most everyone on both sides of reality, but it wasn t because he was a villain. He was The Main Character, dammit! This was his chosen destiny in life-- to hit the cosmic RESTART button and right all the wrongs that reality had made up to this point in time. Can t blame you for feeling otherwise, since hitting that button would likely kill you dead, but-- well--

Fuck it. Landon was a villain. His whole Go Home Club was a pack of villains. They wanted to end the world. They had their reasons. They had their logic. But fuck all that noise. They were doing it to spite the Powers That Be and screw up their grand plan for the universe. They knew they were pawns in some cosmic game of tiddlie winks, and all they wanted to do was turn the board around and start playing checkers instead.

But all of that was for naught. They fought the not-so-good fight. They battled cosmic horrors and zombie hordes and dinosaurs with jet packs and ninja mole men from the center of the earth. They reached the proverbial final level in their grand scheme--

Only to get a goddamn THE END screen like the one you get for beating Rygar. Figuratively-speaking, of course.

They defeated the forces of the Dreamworld that were out to conquer Earth. All the not-so-bad guys were dead, dying, or cowardly changed sides at the last minute. But once they reached the last room in the last dungeon of the last level-- that place where the McGuffin that s supposed to allow for the BIG RESET was supposed to be-- they found JACK SHIT. There wasn t even a consolation home version of the game to be found or a Yoink! Got your shit! Come and get it! post-it on the Altar of Everythingness.

Nothing.

It took awhile for the realization to settle in. They had fought shit, seen friends die, and all but ruined their young lives for what amounted to a cosmic joke. Maybe they had been played by the Powers That Be, and all of these years transpired just to alleviate the Great Old Ones eternal boredom. Or maybe there was no Shining Thing waiting for them at the end to begin with. Maybe it was all a delusion they created for themselves. Maybe they had crafted this elaborate game to amuse their own troubled, youthful minds.

None of that really mattered in the end. They still knew that stuff needed to be done. They all had their personal goals in life that needed to be fulfilled. So The Go Home Club broke up. Everyone went their separate ways to do their own shit.

But not Landon. While everyone else knew what they needed to do in the wake of such an epic fucked up bummer like that, Landon had no fucking clue as to what he should do with life. Yeah, he actually had a college degree that he somehow managed to get in the middle of playing poker with Tarot cards for the fate of Earth with green-skinned women and dodging laser blasts from cannons mounted to giant trilobites. Yeah, he had things he d like to do now that his Main Character title was seemingly meaningless. Yeah, he talked a lot of shit about how he wished his life was normal and how all he wanted to do was settle down and do nothing at all with his life other than exist, but deep down he knew all of that was a bunch of bullshit. After a couple of years of reality, Landon realized that he just didn t belong.

But he also realized that he didn t belong in that other world anymore as well. Josh and Kiran were magical monster hunters. Molly was a wire-fu ass-kicking assassin. Lee could weave realities using PERL coding and a laptop. Mack could-- well-- he could Mack it up. They all had cool shit that they could do that was independent of their false destiny. Landon s cool shit was tied to that very destiny, and his whole identity was tied to it. It was like his very reason for existing no longer existed, yet there was no way in hell he could just give it all up and die or anything stupid like that.

So there he was. Landon Hexx. A Main Character whose story ended without ever really beginning. But you know how this shit does down. There s always some new beginning lurking around the corner. Reality loves itself some sequels.

The rest of the day at work went as it usually did. Landon did what Landons do when they re working-- Meetings, paperwork, surfing the internet, avoiding co-workers to the best of his ability (Even the attractive ones--especially the attractive ones-- since they re all married or engaged and their attractiveness is moot.). Quitting time came around and Landon was already getting into his car, having slipped out of the office a few minutes ahead of schedule like Landons are apt to do.

This is the Hell that s worse than the real Hell? a familiar voice said coyly from the backseat of Landon s car. I can buy it.

Landon laughed. I guess it s more like Heck when you think about it. What with the tedium and all.

Yeah. Heck sucked like that. the figure sitting in the backseat leaned forward, poking her head between the driver and passenger seat. By the way, you better fucking duck. The woman grabbed Landon s head and pushed it into the passenger seat as a putrid-looking ball of energy crashed into the front window of Landon s car, shattering it.

Gah! Landon screamed in a tone he hadn t used in ages. You did that on purpose, didn t you Molly?

Word, Molly replied as she kicked open one of the back seat doors with her boots. Let them tail me so they d scare the shit out of you. Wanted this little reunion to start off with a fucking bang.

Landon sighed as he quickly pushed open one of the front seat doors and scrambled out. What s so special about this meet-up? It isn t like I rarely see you. You aren t Josh or Kiran. At least you stay topside year round.

Molly burst out of the back seat, somehow angling her leap so that she landed on the top of the car three parking spaces away from Landon s. Another ghastly blast arced over her head as she landed. We re getting the band back together, she yelled from her perch.

Landon did his best imitation of an anime facefault as he lay face down on the pavement. He had gotten his wish and he was already exasperated.

QCF+P

     Piercing Weapon: standard (rank 1)

• Ranged Attack
• Multi-Attack

Landon s mind raced with responses to Molly s unexpected proclamation, but when you re getting attacked by who the hell knows while prone on the ground in a parking lot that ll soon be overtaken by his co-workers filling their way to their cars, Landon figured he could make snide asides once the bodies of their would-be assassins were littering the parking lot.

Landon reached into his jacket pocket, inside of which was a specially tailored hammerspace portal. Except he had no intention of drawing out one of the various blunt objects that said pocket s former owned so adored.

He drew out a god damn gun.

See, back in the day, Landon was heralded by some as the latest Legendary Hero. That s kinda different than The Main Character or The Antichrist or The Second Coming or whatever the hell else people liked to call Landon. Legendary Hero has all sorts of implications as to what sort of hero you re supposed to be. One particular friend of Landon s, who was rather fond of the likes of Dragon Warrior, insisted that Legendary Heroes use swords. Only swords. No guns. No magic. No laser bazookas or cars with oil slick or orbital nuclear satellites or anything else that Landon wanted to use to make shit easier on him. She insisted that he learn how to use a sword. Because that s what god damn Legendary Heroes do.

It s been ten years since he s last drawn a blade. It s been even longer since he s used one in actual combat. It s been two days since he s last pulled out his Wii and played a shooting game. Guns just make a hell of a lot more sense.

Nyght would be fucking pissed off if she knew Landon was using her hammerspace as a way to carry a concealed firearm. He can practically hear her screaming as it is. He d give just about anything to hear that scream again when you get down to it, but he s also not about ready to join her in the hereafter. So he s going to use that god damn gun to blow the heads off of whatever the hell it is that s trying to off him.

Wits: * * * * *

     Reaction Speed: standard (rank 1)

What we got? Landon yelled as he drew out his sidearm, still prone on the ground.

Hoodies! Molly screamed back as she backflipped off of the back of the car, narrowly dodging another fireball. About a dozen. Far side of the lot. Artillery. Eldrich. Low grade Josh shit. Molly raised her arms up, blocking an incoming projectile.

Landon s mind went to work as he remained low to the ground, pouring over all of the encounters he s had in the past. Hooded cultists are a dime a dozen, especially ones that liked to hurl the ectoplasmic Elder God Snot shit that these guys seem to love so much. Then again, few cults send out a small platoon since so few can afford to be seen out in public in such large numbers. Ain t New World Order. They have the numbers but avoid dealing with Dreamtime monstrosities at all costs. Mole Men worship the Old Ones but they d never wear something as tacky as a hooded cloak.

...

Bingo! Landon knew what was up.

*Elapsed Time: Slower than a computer. Faster than you.

Don't Blame Me. Blame Yourself or God.

     Tactician: standard (rank 1)

God s Head Church! Landon shouted as stood up and darted to the back of his car. Molly knew what that meant the instant she heard it-- nutjobs trying to create God on Earth by means of spiritual consumption. Think modern day Gnostics meets Iron Chef with a healthy dose of cannibalism mixed in. They re willing to deal with powers beyond their comprehension because they assume their earthly God Head will overcome such forces and purify the souls of anyone who dared to corrupt themselves in the name of His Creation.

They also do their best to capture their prey alive, since many of their rituals involve eating their target alive. Their peculiar eating habits make for ample opportunities to exploit their willingness to accept surrender.

What transpired after that was a bit like the final confrontation between John McClain and Hans Gruber in Die Hard. Landon offered himself up to the cultists. They automatically go into the defensive, all too aware that they can be double-crossed. Landon cautiously advances, his arms well above his head-- his gun still in his hands but far out of reach of being of practical use. Besides, the cultists no full well that a gun dropped to the ground is ample fodder for his cohort to grab and use.

What the cultists didn t take into account is the fact that said cohort could all but fly across the parking lot and breakneck speed, grab said gun as it sat out in the open, and take down two or three of them before they had the chance to renew their incantations and reassume their long-ranged assault.

And by the time they had their mojo brewing again, it d be too late for their asses.

He Can Shoot the Dog

     Marksman: standard (rank 1)

With their age-old scheme played out and three dead cultists bleeding on the ground, Molly tossed Landon his sidearm. She also tossed him a snide smirk, seeing that Landon had tricked out his gun. On the top of the gun Landon had painted several cute characters. The gun in particular was adorned with a small picture of Shitake-Chan from The Jennifer and Shitake-Chan Power Hour cartoon that they dreamed up together as little kids.

Landon caught the gun, barely fumbling it before leveling it at his enemies. He unloaded his clip into the cultist mob, who were unaware that they were being murdered by bullets that had been painted up to look like a family of penguins.

Landon has a lot of free time on his hands, and given his life experiences he s found that it s far more interesting to paint bullets and guns than it is to paint Warhammer miniatures.

Less expensive to boot.

The Main Character (Dammit!)

     Iron Will: superior (rank 2)

By the time Molly and Landon were done with the God s Head Church cultists, many of Landon s co-workers had already made their way into the parking lot, saw what was going on, and promptly started to gawk.

Landon smiled. Hey guys. You can, I don t know, call this my resignation or something? Looks like I got my old job back with my old band. I m the Main Character again, dammit!

Landon thought he heard faint applause from the crowd of onlookers, as if someone in that crowd was quite impressed with his actions.

Or it could be that hint of self-delusionment that s always been in the back of his mind. Either way, Episode Two had begun. Landon liked the prospects of a sequel, but he hoped there wouldn t be need to make this a trilogy.