OIC (1)
MegaZone23
in association with
British-AnimeTech Limited
presents
A PsychoMental Production
A Virtual Non-Film
Benjamin D. Hutchins Brian D. Bikowicz
Rob Mandeville
Out In The Cold
Undocumented Features Volume Three
THE CAST
Benjamin D. Hutchins Gryphon/Ben
Brian D. Bikowicz MegaZone
Rob Mandeville ReRob
Kei Morgan Kei
Yuri Daniels Yuri
Deedlit Satori Deedlit
John Todd Macquivr/q
Adam Johnson Pfloyd/Adam
Andrew Petrarca Android
Kevin Tefft Kevin
Largo Largo
Jennifer Steen Jenna
John Trussell John/Truss
David Ritchie Daver
Vaughn Gross Vaughn/Paladin/Reality
Paul Heaton Paul
Erik Swimm Erik/easwimm/Saurian
Fritz Koopman Fritz
Mark Luchini Mark/Haywire
Patricia Currier Tricia/Trish
Mike Callaghan Mike/Archon
Chris Sprague Chris/Phantom
Derek Bacon Lightnin
Rich Parker Rich
Gary Mayer Gary
Cheryl Zukowsky Cheryl/Cheryl.Z
Mike Wheeler Wheels/MWheeler
Charles Schletzbaum Schletz
Edison Bell Edison
Teleute Teleute/Death
Lord Fahrvergnugen Wolfgang
Decker Decker
Shasti Shasti/Vixen
Enhanced Video Emulation Eve
The Wedge Rats The Wedge Defense Force
Special Visual Effects by Your Brain On Drugs, Inc.
Destruction by Joe Martin Destruction Systems International
Sub-Zero Neo-TechTronic Things by British-AnimeTech, Limited
In Cooperation With Virtual Labs, Inc.
with the exception of
The Mann Systems Series 1001E BioSculptTM Tank by Larry Mann
Detians Created by Joe Martin.
Background Music Performed by Jim Tyrell
From an Original Story by Benjamin D. Hutchins, Brian D.
Bikowicz, and Rob Mandeville
Kei and Yuri Created by Haruka Takachiho
Additional Editing by Vaughn Gross, Tricia, and Cheryl.Z
Counselors for Zoner, Jenna and Cheryl.Z
Counselors for Gryphon, Vaughn and Kei
EVE Shamelessly Stolen from MegaZone23
Catering by the Kenmore Diner
Inspiration by D-Term, Nirvana, Weird Al, and Tesla
Extra Special Letter Bomb for the Creators of the NFS
"No Files Served" "Nightmare File Server."
Mr. Bikowicz's Wardrobe by Blackbird Intl.
Mr. Hutchins' Wardrobe by "Optical Illusions 'R' Us" GmbH.
Mr. Mandeville's Wardrobe by K-Mart
Entertainment by Mystery Science Theater 3000.
Role Models Provided by Joel, Crow, Gypsy, and Tom Servo.
Publishing by Eyrie Publishing Co., NotEvenCloseToInc.
Copyright (c) 1992 Benjamin D. Hutchins, Brian D. Bikowicz,
and Rob Mandeville
Once again this is for all the people out there who love SF,
anime, and the marvelous concept known as "write yer own".
But more than that:
For Kei and Yuri
Ben:
For Zoner and the returning ReRob, who came up with some of
the more creatively impossible solutions to this distance
problem. Some actually worked.
For General Motors, the only reason I'm able to type this at
all.
For my father...too bad the RealMen(tm) got him.
For my mom...midlife paranoia sucks, doesn't it?
For the guys back home, who haven't the faintest clue what's
going on, but are there to help me deal naetheless.
For Randy, who is yet still comfortably numb--even more so
now that he finally has a dog bed.
In commemoration of the return of the ice cream truck, this
line is for Helene... *snicker*
For They MIGHT BE Giants. Too weird to be depressed to.
And last but never least, for what was and wasn't and
could've been and did and didn't; for Cheryl.
Zoner:
For Ben, I wish things had worked out differently. I hope
the future is brighter.
For ReRob, I'm glad to have you back writing with us.
For Jenna, who will always remain close to my heart, no
matter the physical distance. Merry meet, merry part.
For the Internet, thanks for keeping me in touch and making
the world a little smaller.
For Joe, thanks for understanding, listening, and taking the
damn knife away from me.
For Cheryl.Z, thank you for supporting me when I needed it.
For loves lost and gained, loves that never were or never
will be. It's all a part of living, though not always
very enjoyable. Life goes on. (a-fucking-men. --G.)
ReRob:
For Julia, who taught me never to give up on love.
For Daver, who flattened only one testicle.
For Jesses, who let me blow off a metric buttload of steam.
For John Cowles, a Pratt & Whitney engineer with a sense of
humor. (I never dreamed that mentioning UF would help me
land a co-op job!)
For Trish, for being the Cookie Goddess.
For Ajay, who let me reconfigure my wetware without
interfering.
For Michael 'fmeyer' O'Malley, who showed us what a
beautiful and precious thing life is.
(You shall be remembered fondly Mike. Rest well. -Zoner)
For Def Leppard, who showed us how to pickup the pieces.
For Sto and Denny's, for being open.
----------------------------------------------------------ONE
"It ain't over 'til it's over."
--The Alarm
The sky above Worcester was a gentle golden panorama.
Below, in the crater, the city was rebuilding itself around
the vast GENOM complex. Vehicles and people shuttled back
and forth and here and there on their business, slowly
bringing a warm, thriving vitality to Neo-Worcester.
In his newly redecorated office at the top of the tower,
Largo seethed. Before his desk, Professor Ian Astbury stood,
trembling so hard he made the plastic sheeting under his feet
rustle. Nearby, on the large leather sofa, Iczer-2 lounged.
"So...you allowed Iczer-1 to escape," Largo hissed.
"You cost me my victory over the Wedge Rats. You cost me an
eighteen-trillion-dollar space cruiser and very nearly a six-
billion-dollar I.C.Z.E.R. prototype. Give me a good reason
why I should not kill you right now."
"I...I cannot," Astbury replied. "I couldn't let my
work be destroyed so casually. She had a good, kind soul,
and she was to die for just that reason...I could not
conscience it. If I'm to die for that...then so be it." He
lowered his head and awaited the end.
"Then so be it," Largo repeated. "Iczer-2: kill him."
"No."
"No?!"
"No."
"Am I to understand that you are refusing to obey my
order?"
"I am."
"For what reason?"
"I do not wish to destroy my creator. Call it a
character flaw."
"You will not obey me?!"
"No. And there is nothing you can do about it." She
smiled, seeing Largo's rising rage. "It frustrates you,
doesn't it? The great and mighty Largo, powerless in the
face of a mere woman."
"Do not push me--"
"Or what? You will destroy me? Bah. I am so
frightened I simply can't control my terror."
"My patience is at its end, Iczer-2. Cease this
foolishness now or face my wrath. There are failsafes
installed in your makeup to ensure against such disobedience.
Do not force me to use them!"
"Do you mean these?" Iczer-2 asked coolly, holding up a
handful of what appeared to be computer chips. Largo's eyes
widened. "Your technicians should not have implanted them so
close to the skin," she continued, dropping them to the floor
and crushing them under a boot. When broken, they sizzled
and melted into the floor.
"I could destroy you, Largo. You and all your empire,
here, now, and finish the job the Wedge Rats began on New
Year's Day. I choose not to. Consider it payment of
whatever debts I still owe you for my inception."
"You cannot do this," Largo hissed. "I created you--and
this is how you repay me."
"Then you wish me to end your life?" Iczer-2 asked.
Largo had no answer. He simply sat and seethed.
"Then be happy with what you have," Iczer-2 said.
"Come, Professor...I will not leave you to the tender mercies
of Largo, after all."
Before Largo could protest or do anything, they were
gone. Snarling, he reached for his desk intercom, about to
order a full mobilization of all GENOM resources to seek and
destroy Iczer-2, but before he could reach it, alarms went
off.
He grabbed his phone and punched 911. "This is Largo.
What in hell's going on?"
"Security station D reporting, sir," a random security
guard's voice replied. "It's kind of hard to describe--
you'll just have to see it for yourself!"
"What the--" Largo turned his chair so he was facing
out across the city of Neo-Worcester. Above the city,
surrounded by the crackling distortion of a recently-
completed and very well-done spacefold operation, was the
huge blue and white ship which had so recently humiliated
him, its every battlescar repaired. The ship looked mean and
ready for action. Across its hull just below the huge bridge
window, the words SDF-17 WAYWARD SON blazed in deep black.
The Wedge Defense Force had arrived.