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MEGAZONE 23
"I mean come on...how do you guys expect to beat me?
--Good answer. Good answer!"
--Raphael
THE WEDGE
WEDNESDAY 1 JANUARY 1992
The Wedge Rats were gathered in their home, overflowing
the two principal Wedge booths and running off into the big
one by DAKA Jr. as well. ReRob was explaining the events of
the last couple of days.
"What happened to Kei and Yuri?" Erik Swimm asked him.
"Yeah," said Grendel, "I heard they got killed or
something?"
"To paraphrase Mark Twain," a rejuvenated, showered,
well-rested and non-hungry Ben said as he rounded the corner
from the nosh machines, "the reports of their deaths have
been greatly exaggerated."
"Isn't that the truth," Zoner added with a smirk as he
followed.
Kei and Yuri walked out into the Wedge, wearing matching
suits of CVR-3F, or CVR-she. In extremely dark black. Not
flat black or gloss black or matte black; more of a WOW
that's black kind of black. Blacker than space itself. A
color you could actually hear if you listened closely
enough. Their helmets were tucked under their arms and their
lasers slung in preferred positions, crossdraw for Kei,
straightarm for Yuri. The only adornments the armor bore
were the large red hearts on their shoulders where the unit
flashes went.
<<Back in Black, AC/DC>>
There was a general silence, the entire Wedge struck
dumb by this development; then the room erupted in cheers.
Several studying mundanes got up and left, whining about
complaining to SNaP.
After this reception, the meeting took on official form;
ReRob was demonstrating the proper donning and removal of the
CVR-3 body armor and Cyclone mecha unit; pfloyd, and Crocker
were reviewing tactics. Ben, Kei, MegaZone, and Yuri were,
erm, discussing some fine point of boffa combat (Ben's nose
was bleeding, but it didn't particularly appear that he
cared).
ReRob finished his demonstration and, in due time, the
meeting began to break up. Wedge Rats filtered around in
different stages of armor, talking excitedly about the
prospect of revenge on those who had pushed them this far.
It had been established early on that they couldn't go
on the offensive, for the simple reason that they didn't know
where the enemy was. Entropy had been on from a wpi address,
but that meant absolutely nothing. A net.god like Entropy
could be anywhere, anytime he wanted. And for that matter,
was there any guarantee that he would be based in the same
place as the others of the enemy?
Suddenly, the Wedge erupted into chaos. The windows
along the Wedge booths exploded in flames, sending plexi
shrapnel through the entire room. Wedge Rats screamed and
scattered, slapping sections of CVR-3 on and locking helmet
visors. ReRob darted behind the booth near DAKA Jr.; his
Cyclone was there, folded up. Everyone else's was waiting
outside, by the Quad.
Ben dove for cover behind his machinegun mount. It was
just about time to see if his armor was going to work;
he couldn't deploy the gun in here anyway. Not enough time
to turn it around.
Boomers came through the holes where Lower Wedge windows
had been, having sneak attacked via the Lower Wedge. Dirty
trick; the Wedge Rats never thought about the Lower Wedge as
an avenue of attack.
Crocker boldly gave the order: "Retreeeeat! Plan 42!"
As Wedge Rats scrambled to the Quad and their cycles,
Pfloyd seconded the motion. "It's not a retreat, it's a
strategic advance to the rear!"
Kevin ran out, yelling "Shut up, Adam. Just shut up!"
while slapping on the remainder of his CVR-3, and, not so
incidentally, wrecking his manicure. "Shit! My nails!"
ReRob ran by, to his specialized VR-065 Obliviator
Cyclone. "Don't worry, Kevin. Your mecha's got better!"
"By the way, ReRob, which one's..." He stopped in mid-
sentence after exiting the airlock. Within the fleet of
motorcycle mecha stood one glowing hot pink VR-041 Cyclone,
the type with CADS sabres on each arm, which allow the
wielder to cut aluminum like butter. "Never mind."
Pfloyd didn't have any trouble finding his either; it
was the flat black Sabre with the unit flash on the tank
matching the one on his right shoulder; the circle, half red,
half white, with the crossed hammers in it.
Zoner ran to the fhuge motorcycle that was sitting at
the end of a row. Ah, the Bahamode. He mounted up and
revved the engine...such a sweet sound. He swung his hand
around in an arc over his head and yelled, "Rev 'em up and
let's kick some ass!"
Gryphon just stood there and mentally called his GRF-3N
Griffin III Armored Combat Suit. It appeared in outline
around him, and he stood inside a live wire-frame drawing
while the suit formed itself around him, from monochrome to
CGA to VGA to Cray resolution and beyond.
It was breathtaking, built in an exact likeness of a
GRF-1N Griffin BattleMech save for the absent missile
canister. Its entire surface was shimmering blue-silver
metal, except the facebowl, which was impenetrably black. On
the left shoulder plate was a 3WA symbol; on the right was a
map of Maine with a large GoV superimposed on it. The left
hand held a huge pistol-like weapon.
Was the armor animated or real? He swung his arm
around, targeted the nearest Boomer, and blew him away with
his left-hand-held particle cannon; the Boomer did just that,
with a satisfying explosion. Ok, it was definitely real.
Ben was just kind of standing there, reveling in the
tremendous rush that comes from having one of your favorite
creations realized around you, when a Boomer charged at him
wielding a laser sword.
Without really thinking about it, Ben ducked, dodged to
the side, and lashed out with a left that sheared the borg's
head off and tossed it across the room.
Ben grinned and fired his back jets, leaping outside to
join his comrades as they raced around the "Quad track"
toward the regroup point in front of the gym.
The bikes raced around the Quad in a rather orderly
fashion, which seemed strange for anarchistic Rats. After
reaching the gym, they cut across the quad making a B-line
for the Wedge, forming waves five bikes across. When each
line of bikes hit the curb, they hit the jets, popped into
the air, and proceeded to wrap the motorcycles around them.
Strangely enough, these bikes were built to do just that.
The first wave consisted of (from left to right) Pfloyd,
Cheryl.Z, ReRob, Tim, and Ktefft. ReRob's 065 packed twin
RLAMF-1 (Rotary Laser Array--Mondo Firepower Mk 1, or what
the wise opponent does on seeing one) laser weapons, six-
barreled laser Vindicators, which had the same effect at
range as the CADS did in close. Pfloyd and Ktefft were
wielding the CADS on their 041 Sabre Cyclones, and Tim was
going absolutely apeshit about the agility of the 038-LT
Combat Cyclone (after enduring several comments about
crossdressing from Cheryl, who was also running a 38 Light).
The left three Cyclones opened the windows with a quick
barrage of mini-missiles, dubbed Search Warrant spells by a
duly impressed Rob Crocker.
Upon landing, the first wave's primary goal was opening
a landing zone for the second through nth wave. Tim
flattened opponents with rather exaggerated martial arts
moves (after bouncing off the centerpost rather annoyingly).
As if the laws of physics themselves wished to annoy him, he
heard the impact of his blows a second or so after they
landed. Kevin started working on the right side and Floyd on
the left. He and Pfloyd performed what can best be described
as military dissection on the 'bots, 'borgs, and other
assorted nastinesses. ReRob cleared out the machines from
where the 041 wearers reach ended to the back end of the
Upper Wedge. Cheryl just generally wreaked havoc, a thing
she had no small expertise in.
The next second, the second wave came in, and the first
one peeled off to the side. Ktefft jumped through the window
they keep telling the Rats not to lean on and proceeded to
mosh with everything in the Lower Wedge.
(Moshing With Vibro-Swords. What A Concept. Have To
Try It Sometime.)
Within a minute, n waves of five Cyclones each (for a
total of 5n Cyclones), plus a Griffin III and a Bahamode,
held the center strip of the Upper Wedge. The group then
proceeded to expand the strip until they ran out of Wedge.
Those machines that weren't destroyed retreated to the Lower
Wedge, and were subsequently pushed into Institute Road.
Ktefft proceeded to shift back to bike and run about,
slashing them off at the knees with his front-wheel CADS,
cackling with glee. Zoner came barreling through the Wedge
on his mondocycle and did much the same thing, making
strafing run after strafing run with his front-mounted
lasers. He was having too damn much fun to shift to mecha
mode.
ZRAK! A bolt of nifty-looking orange energy shot from
someplace in the crowd of robots, cyborgs, and other assorted
viciousnesses to blow the front wheel off Kevin's bike. This
made it rather hard for him to do little things like steer
and balance. He went skidding into a dumpster. Zoner slid
to a halt, one leg down; his skill on a bike had improved
greatly, thanks to lessons and practice with Yuri, Kei, and
Ben.
The crowd of mechanicals parted to allow one passage;
everyone stopped fighting and looked at him. He was tall,
powerfully constructed, cloaked in red with golden trim; his
face was an amazingly silly-looking life-support mask. Made
Darth Vader look like James Bond.
"I am...Coyle," the mechanized figure intoned in a
hideous cybernetic voice. "Yield to me now and I promise you
quick and painless deaths."
"Ah, but you see," said Crocker, "it takes true strength
to transform..." And he gave a motion of his hand.
Back in the Upper Wedge, Tracker, a member of Wave n-1,
slammed his armored fist into the Wedge Transformation
Button, also known as the nifty-keen SMOKING ALLOWED IN THIS
AREA ONLY sign on one of the posts.