Meet William Patrick Shaughnessy, the boss of The Aristocrats, a rough-n-tumble gang from the back alleys and barrooms of Old-Fashioned Paragon City. You know, back when beer was served in giant glass mugs with foam all around, bowler hats were only taken off when one went to bed, and those kinds of mustaches were in vogue. Heck, even pianos automatically sounded plinky and rinky-tinky in those days. Bill himself was a bareknuckle prizefighter for a while until he learned that rolling drunks for their cash was more lucrative. Then he learned that ordering other guys to roll drunks for their cash (and giving a share back to Bill in the process) was more lucrative than that, and by the time he'd opened his own saloon 'n gambling den 'n who-knows-what-else-what, employing nearly half the criminal element around, he was known as Bowery Bill. The Boss.
Until blah blah blah rift in time and space blah blah blah found himself in a new world etc etc etc. C'mon, it's a freakin video game here, I don't need to write an entire eighteen-chapter backstory for some dude in a bowler hat with muttonchops who likes to smash things. He hasn't even hit level 20 yet. Let's just watch him smash things!
BOWERY BILL VERSUS THE GOLDBRICKERS
OUR BOY BILL HEADS INTO ACTION THE ONLY WAY HE KNOWS HOW -- IN THRU THE OUT DOOR!
Bill gets the call for action from a contact who often throws work his way, fully confident that our boy has the skills to get the job done. This time around, Bill's presence is required in an abandoned warehouse, where several of the crazy jetpack-wearing Goldbrickers are hanging out. Bill is politely requested to smash the Goldbrickers and steal one of their jetpacks. No sweat!
THEY WON'T KNOW WHAT HIT 'EM!
Bill catches the Goldbrickers napping -- or, at least, with their backs turned to the door. It's amazing how someone that large can move so stealthily, but there you have it. Bill winds up for his patented delivery, and sends the poor schmoe flying!
THAT'S GONNA LEAVE A MARK!
Bill makes short work of the Goldbrickers, thanks to his super strength and natural resilience to damage. He can dish it out and take his lumps, and still stagger back for more. Goofy headgear and cumbersome weapons are no match for Bill's two-fisted fury! He steals that jetpack like it ain't no thing, and splits!
AH, THE SPOILS OF VICTORY!
"Thank you for the jetpack!" Bill's scientist friend eventually says. "Go ahead and keep it! I didn't really want it, anyway. There's fuel left for 90 minutes of flight, so go knock yourself out, kid." Whether that means the jetpack will only be around for an hour and a half, or if it will actually fly for an hour and a half no matter how long you keep it, well, that's anybody's guess. Never one to pass up an opportunity, Bill takes the pack out for a spin. And look how happy he is! Just like a bird or something!
I'm sure Bill will have plenty more adventures to come, and so will his friends: Boss McGee, the mind-controlling fellow who kinda looks like a skinny version of Mr. Influence; Society Max, the gentleman assassin whose name I fully admit stealing from Damon Runyon; and yes, the Randroid is back in all his moral objectivist glory, too.
Whee hah! It's good to be the bad guy!