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[THE HEART OF THE MATTERBy Emp]

THE HEART OF THE MATTER
By Emp

Cooper awoke to a throbbing in his head. He tried to sit up but found himself bound, unable to move. Turning his head he saw others like him, bound  to beds in what looked like a hospital.

The sound of the pressurised doors opening made him look down, passed his feet. Two heavily armed men had entered and began wheeling a gurney from the room.

"Boss looks torn up," said one.

"Shadupp, less you wanna be a donor,"

Hours, days passed before the next victim was  dragged  out. Cooper watched ,determined that he would not follow in his wake.
Patient struggle had allowed him to free one hand and soon he was standing.

"What are you doing?" hissed a female voice, "you'll get us all killed!"

Looking around he saw a girl not much older than himself secured to a bed a few rows away.

"In case it escaped you I think these guys want us dead anyway!" he hissed.

"Damn, well I'm coming with you then,"

" You think?"

" I can scream really loud," the girl replied and took a deep breath.

"Crap," Cooper whispered as he crossed to her bed and released her, "Just keep it quiet!"

Opening the door revealed a corridor running parallel. Right lead to a set of stairs and since stairs led up and up equals out they took them.
The top of the stairs led into another corridor and a sight that stopped them in their tracks. A window allowed them a view of a lab in which rows of hearts sat is jars, slowly beating.

The corridor was lined with doors and Cooper tried one at random. Alarms blared and a voice from an unknown source cried out!

"UNAUTHORISED ACCESS IN LEVEL 2! SECURITY DETAIL TO LEVEL 2!"

Leaving the door ajar, Cooper opened the opposite door, ushering the girl inside.

"Ssshh...hopefully they'll see that open door, think it's a false alarm!"

"That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard!"

"Got a better one? Cooper spat.

The girl looked at him and then the floor.

"Thought not, now shut up, I hear them!"

The sound of footfalls deafened them as they hid, hoping they would pass by. They didn't, they stopped and voices could be heard.

"Nothing,"

" Make sure, room by room sweep,"

"Aw c'mon...my hearts beating too fast..that alarm freaked me!"

"You shot up! In here! The boss will kill you....."

The sentence was cut short by blaster fire and the the door slowly opened. Cooper grabbed the nearest object and stepped in front of the girl.

The door swung open to reveal .....a Gronk!

"This ways!" it said ushering them out.

In the corridor the Gronk leant against a wall, holding it's chest.

"You OK? asked Cooper.

"Heartsess" replied the creature, " stairs at end or corridor..go"

Taking the girls hand Cooper ran, only to find himself faced by armed guards. Turning he saw the Gronk draw on him and fire.

"Sorry, I need your heartsess"

[Burning PointBy Zarjazzer]

Burning Point
By Zarjazzer

Jizelle was on fire. The flames wrapped round her in a fiery embrace. She could smell her rad suit beginning to bubble. And then it would be her skin.

Outside the shattered window of the truck she could see he three ambushers still taking  pot shots at the crashed vehicle.

Shrieking she shoulder barged the door of the now ruined rad truck and flung her self  in the dirt.

"I should never have left mega -City One!" she thought as she rolled in the dust. The flames wouldn't go out. The pre-megs truck ran on "gas" and it had sprayed all over her when the muties had shot up her vehicle.

Suddenly a massive blow sent her reeling and huge hands crashed down on her. The flames were beaten out.

Groggily Jizelle rolled over and looked up. The muscular form of a huge mutie blocked out the dismal, cursed earth sun.

Too many mouths filled with filed, sharpened teeth grinned down at her hungrily.

"I don't like my meat cooked." giggled the figure.

He raised a notched, barbarous blade. The stink of  burned flesh and gasoline seemed to rise to overwhelm her.

From the second mouth above, the horned head disintegrated in a spray of blood.

The mutie fell to land with a thud next to Jizelle.

A tall figure wrapped in rags aimed his long rifle and fired again. Jizelle heard a hoarse scream and the tentacle armed  form of another mutie toppled over. The third, some misshapen hunchback hidden in a cloak loped away whining piteously.

The ragged man walked towards her his face obscured by a plastic mask and rad googles.

On his chest hung  a bronzed trinket like a badge. Jizelle could read F..A..R...the rest obscured by muck.

"You're a Judge!" whimpered Jizelle through blistered lips.

"Was a Judge." said the figure. "Took the long walk."

"Help me!" whimpered Jizelle-"You gotta help me! I escaped the city I admit it , but  I got burned an-"

"Not burned enough." he said.

"What?" exclaimed Jizelle. What do you-"

"Like I said I was a Judge."

He removed his mask. Filed down teeth...

She could still smell the gasoline. On her clothes, seeping into her hair.

The figure stepped towards her. At the last moment she screamed seeing the lighted match in his hand.

"I like my meat cooked." he said.

[Blue Meanie]

Get those voting buttons ready; it's time! Here are the entries for the 30th Forum Story Competition. The topic, as chosen by last comp's winner Blue Meanie was HORROR:

Short story. 2000AD characters. FULL ON HORROR. Want it nasty as hell. Extra points for not using an obvious character like Judge Death or Durham Red to do it either. Take someone not usually associated with horror and do something messed up with them.

Entries to follow in random order; I'll let you know when you can start voting. Top 3 and an Honourable Mention if you will; voting will close at 5.49pm on Thursday 6 June so vote quickly! Here they come....

Belatedly, the comp is complete!

I'll set up a voting thread tomorrow for y'all!

[23:59, Sunday 19 May]

No other way to describe it, we're after FULL ON HORROR from you.

Our last winner, bluemeanie, explains the theme:

I say go dark. Short story. 2000AD characters. FULL ON HORROR. Want it nasty as hell. Extra points for not using an obvious character like Judge Death or Durham Red to do it either. Take someone not usually associated with horror and do something messed up with them. Ideally in a way that it could actually work in continuity and it's a hidden side to them that normally happens off panel or between stories. Show some dark closeted skeletons.

500 words or fewer. Entries written in blood will receive extra credit. Closing date 23:59, Sunday 19 May.

This being our 30th competition, there will be prizes... More details soon!

[30th]

Extra Honourable Mentions for Clavell and eamon1961 and a big pile of thanks to everyone else who entered and voted.

It's over to BlueMeanie for a theme for our next comp (Grud help us all!).

And because it's our 30th (whoo!), I shall have a word in Tharg's green not-very-shell-like and see if he will bestow some prizes upon us....

[Bluemeanie]

And our winner is...

The one, the only, the unsurpassed: Bluemeanie

Group Deal

"You ready?"

The Tech looked up at Alpha, then back down at his console.

"Yeah" Alpha replied.

"Cool. Just a few more adjustments then you're good to go".

Alpha nodded, hoping to stop the conversation in its tracks. Right now, he was all about the job and had no time for pleasantries.

"Right then," the tech continued "timestamp laid in. Planetary position calculated and locked."

He continued tapping away and adjusted a few dials in a way that appeared more for show than any actual purpose.

"Guessing you're going after someone big then? Must be, to warrant a time jump like this. Not cheap. Not cheap at all. Anyone I would have heard of?"

He looked up expectantly, obviously hoping for a famous name from the history books to impress his co-workers with. Alpha paused for a few seconds then decided he wouldn't get anywhere till he'd satisfied the other man's curiosity.

"Doubtful," he growled. "It's a group warrant. Dozen or so mid-level jobs who just happen to be in the same location at the same time. Enough to justify the overhead."

"Oh," the tech responded, obviously disappointed. "Never mind."

He gave his desk one last check then looked up with a practiced smile of reassurance.

"Here we go then. Good hunting. I'll see you in a minute. Well, for me anyway".

He pulled a lever and both the tech and the room shimmered out of view to be replaced by a grey looking car park. Alpha checked the data module on his wrist. The GPS confirmed the correct location and the chronometer confirmed the date... 1979. With a button press, the display changed to a countdown till his automated return. Just over an hour, he'd have to get on.

He walked up to the main building ahead and opened the door, letting out a woman in her mid 20's who grinned at him enthusiastically.

"Fab costume!" she squealed. "Let me guess.... Doctor Who?"

He shook his head and told her where he needed to be.

"Oh, no problem" she smiled. "Just keep left and look out for signs for Studio 3. Failing that just listen out for the music. You can't miss the Top of the Pops studio when they're recording".

"I never miss" Alpha replied and headed off to collect his bounties.

[In second place: ...And Justice for All by Marlowe]

In second place: ...And Justice for All by Marlowe

He swaggered up towards the bench wearing a stained, wrinkled bedsheet and a smirk. Perched atop his head was what appeared to be half a dead cat and around his neck was a rather effeminate frilly neckpiece.

"You are the defendant?" said Judge Nicely, one eyebrow raised.

"I am the defendant's barrister, sir."

"Excuse me?"

"His counsel, sir."

"Litigants have no right to counsel," said the bailiff.

"I'll allow it," Nicely said. "Just get it over with quickly."

The lawyer gazed into the middle distance with sparkling eyes that overflowed with the justice and purity of his noble cause. He flourished his hands with maximum histrionics. "Innocence... until proof of guilt... is the foundation of our justice system."

"No, it isn't," Nicely cut in. "And this is a civil claims court."

"It's relevant, sir, I assure you. I remind you of this precept, because my client was NEVER given its benefit. He was treated as a CRIMINAL at the hands of EVERYONE in his ENTIRE LIFE. By the JUDGES, by the PLAINTIFF... HE is the sad, sad victim here –"

"For grud's sake, say something of relevance to the defendant's case or get out!"

The lawyer levelled a trembling index finger at Nicely, his makeshift wig slipping askew. "I put it to YOU, Judge, that you're obstructing my client's case!"

"What?" Nicely facepalmed.

"Hang on. Cocaine break." The lawyer bent down and snorted a couple of lines. "I'm a brilliant lawyer but I do drugs and gamble and screw prostitutes because that makes me edgy, see."

"You are one step away from thrown in the cubes for contempt!" shouted Nicely.

"All right, sir, I'll get to my closing address," replied the lawyer. He plunged his hand into his trousers, exposed his organ and began to masturbate in front of the block court.

"Enough! Judge Wilson, remove that man."

The lawyer struggled like blue blazes in the bailiff's grip, refusing to go quietly. "This is drokkin' injustice! I object, sir, I fervently object! I'll have you know I'll be appealing to the International Court of Justice and –"

A round from Nicely's Lawgiver cracked the air, cutting the lawyer's diatribe mercifully short.

"Grud. So this is why we did away with the system."

[In third place: Bankers Balls by IAMTHESYSTEM]

In third place: Bankers Balls by IAMTHESYSTEM

The '2nd English Revolution' had swept the Volgs away but the Leaders of the uprising then quarrelled amongst themselves. Displaying typical British resolve, despondency now seized the Nation.

'Perfect.' thought Montague Van Shite as he adjusted his bow tie in the mirror for the Annual Bankers Ball. 'Money is the only weapon.' If only others knew that truth but ideology blinded them, made them weak. Montague and his Banking associates had no such moral shortcomings.

He'd helped the retreating Volgs shift millions offshore to secret accounts. He'd helped finance the 'Revolution' too. Best to bet on both sides in a conflict. Soon the Revolution would be sold out to the money men and normality restored.

Irritated, Montague heard the Penthouse lift arriving. Inconvenient timing but it was probably business, Volg 'Stay behind' Agents planning more outrages against the new Government.

'Comrades,' said Montague with no sense of irony. 'Always good Business, Terrorism-'

The double barrelled shotgun steadied itself before Montague's face. Shocked, Montague heard something land with a metallic thud near his feet. He looked down. A pair of thick, police grade handcuffs lay on the floor. Looking up, he glanced a silhouette of the Man holding the gun with steady hands, confident, determined.

The man motioned towards the handcuffs with the shotgun. Montague began to speak but the gleam in the other's eye silenced him. Montague lowered himself to the floor cuffing himself against his own desk.

The trespasser slid his shotgun back inside his coat and produced a serrated knife, tossing it between each hand. Mesmerized, Montague watched the blade with horror then, kneeling swiftly down, the Man began to cut through Montague's expensive leather belt pulling down his trousers.

'W-wait-I'll pay anything, anything!' screamed Monatgue as he felt the blade slice open his Gucci underpants, nicking his groin flesh.

'Yes,.. you will.' breathed the man. He kept on sawing...

---

The small pub served hot food. They'd had a new cook in who didn't say much; East Ender, probably a Vet, but Josie the pub's manager knew Veterans didn't like to talk about the War. Who did?

'Bill?' said Josie entering the cramped kitchen. The door to the yard was open and the dogs lazed out side waiting to be thrown titbits as Bill stood over the stove, pans sizzling, the smell of cooking fat filling the air. That and something else.

'Ooh, that smells nice. ' Josie said as she hovered beside a small pan containing two rounded lumps of meat. 'Bet it taste like the dog's bollocks.' she grinned, smiling at her usually truculent Chef.

Bill Savage threw back his head and roared with laughter.

So here we are: the moment of truth #29. The challenge for this Story Comp was 500 words of satire; in the words of our last winner strontium_dog_90, we were looking for:

not the political stuff, though there's plenty of that, but the stuff on the worst parts of our culture, especially movies and TV. Whether it's Slaine cutting his way through the contestants - and judging panel - of The X Factor or Dredd arresting Plan B for crimes against music and acting, give me your best satirical story featuring one of The Galaxy's Greatest roster of stars.

Here are the results, in reverse order <drum roll>:

And that's your lot.

I've read them all and have narrowed it down to, well, everyone. This could be a close one!

Let the voting begin!

[Ever Had A Scream Come True?By strontium_dog_90]

Ever Had A Scream Come True?
By strontium_dog_90

Dredd was cuffing a perp called Henry when it happened.

His body started to fade from the scene.

'Stay where you are,' Dredd warned Henry. 'I'll be back for you!'

Then he was gone.

**

Dredd disappearing halfway through an arrest was not an unusual occurrence. Normally he was summoned to distant universes to fight omnipotent gods, or taken to an alien arena. Whatever the reason this time, though, Henry just thanked Grud and ran off.

But then a shadow stepped before him.

And said, 'You should come with me.'

**

Meanwhile, Dredd appeared in a nightmare.

Six media personalities were strapped to chairs, metal helmets attached to their heads. The helmets were linked to a big computer, and when the personalities saw Dredd, they began to scream.

'It's him!' said a guy who had scored a hit song two decades ago.

'Oh no!' said a woman whose body was ninety six per cent plastic.

And a voice behind Dredd said, 'Why-aye, Judge! Welcome to the show!'

**

Henry entered a packed building in which some kind of meeting was taking place.

The man who had brought him said, 'My name is Barnes. Welcome.'

**

Dredd turned.

Before him, Rant and Wreck, two charmless robots programmed to speak in a rare Mega-City dialect in lieu of possessing actual personalities, spoke into a camera.

One of them – it was hard to tell which – said, 'In this latest edition of hit reality torture show Ever Had A Scream Come True, we have hooked up six famous – sort of – contestants to a machine than simulates their worst fear.'

The other one added, 'They'll face their fear, and you guys at home can vote for whichever one is traumatised in the most entertaining way!'

Drawing his Lawgiver, Dredd said, 'Think again, creeps.'

**

'What is this place?' Henry asked. 'Who are all these people?'

'They're people like you,' Barnes said. 'Like us. They've all escaped when Dredd disappeared whilst arresting them.'

'You made a club for that?'

'This is Mega-City One,' Barnes said. 'What else are we going to do?'

**

Rant – maybe – said, 'Why-aye, like, is he supposed to talk to us, like?'

'Don't worry,' the other one reassured him. 'He's not real. The contestants are just imagining him.'

'You mean we tapped into their worst fears, and all of them are most scared of Dredd?'

'Judge Dredd,' the lawman stressed, coming up behind them. 'Let me show you what they're scared of.'

**

Explaining it later, Tek-Department and PSI-Division would say the contestants' fear was so great, it sucked the real Dredd into their show.

For now, though, Dredd crashed back to reality. Covered in robot remnants with six sort-of personalities handcuffed behind him, under arrest for conspiracy to kidnap a Judge.

Seeing his return, Henry groaned.

'I told you not to move,' Dredd said.

But as he began to make arrests, he vanished once again.

Henry looked at Dredd's six newest prisoners.

'Welcome to the club,' he said to one of them. 'Don't I know you from somewhere?'

[UntitledBy Emp]

Untitled
By Emp

I hate time travel and I really hate the idea of returning to this backwater planet, Dirt.

Slipping out of the Time Suit, I retrieve the Displacer unit and strap it to my wrist before activating the suit's meltdown protocol.

I look around and struggle to conceive what room I am in. A bed, which you would think would be a good hint, but I'm confused by the shelves of lotions, potions, creams, pens, trowels and things that can only be called torture devices.

"Steady, Jim," I whisper and take a swig of the old Panther Sweat. A picture catches my eye, two creatures, jowl to jowl stare out at me with vacant, dead eyes.

I've been to this rock before, but never encountered such creatures. Did Coypu screw up the co-ords? Oh, I really hope not. According to the Special Corp, in here is a book that will start a war!

A noise outside the room makes me turn from the picture, something I will be eternally grateful for.

Opening the door reveals a tall man with too much nose for face climbing the stairs and for a second I ponder if he could be related to Coypu. That's before he speaks. Now, I am no expert in the languages and dialects of Dirt, but this sounds wrong.

"Well, we've seen the kitchen and living room, but who could live in a house like this?"

Not Slippery Jim DiGriz, I can tell you that!

My options are limited, he doesn't seem to know who lives here so I decide to front it out and walk out of the room. As it happens, not one of your old friend Jim's best decisions.

"It is I, you have found my..." The sentence dies when faced with his backup.

Two men with shoulder mounted weapons and a third with what looks like a dead animal on a stick.

I toss smoke and nausea pellets onto the stairs, slap on a respirator and dive into them. We tumble down the stairs, all limbs and screams and I hear something crack but feel no pain. So a result for team Jim.

A brief struggle and I find a door, which I slam behind me. Once my vision clears I can't help but whimper! So much pink!

I can see why the Corps think there's a book of evil here, no sane person could live like this. I push a chair against the door and rip books from the shelves. So many, and they're all the same!! Bosoms! Torn shirts!

There's only one thing to do.....douse everything in flamegel and leave.

The flames burn nicely as my pursuers burst in. A wink, a wave and I feel the time slip kick in.

"You'll never take me ...."

"...alive."

Coypu looks at me curiously, so I carry on.

"Never..., Jim DiGriz is too good for you. Oh, hey...excuse me while I throw up."

"What's a Cartland?" I ask,wiping my mouth.

[Church of the Fat CatBy Zarjazzer]

Church of the Fat Cat
By Zarjazzer

Charlie Gurtz always knew he was the chosen one. Mom always said so. She'd died but Charles had kept her body as the extra creds from her pension were always useful to buy more stimms. Charlie had survived Chaos Day. He'd hidden in a closet whilst the horrors railed around him.

It was when he'd run out of food that he realised his destiny.

Charlie was rifling a food store when he heard the growl of approaching lawmasters.

"Split! " yelled Spugzy, his old juve gang pal from way back. Charlie heard a harsh, raised voice.

"Sentence is death, looters! Bike cannon!"

Suddenly Spugzy and the gang were falling like ninepins, red ruins as the rounds tore into them. Charlie ran. He turned the corner and down an alley.

"I think one punk's over there," came a Judge's voice.

Charlie, panting, hid behind some garbage.

It was then he saw the cat. A fat black beast, feral eyes glaring out at him.

The circle of a Judge surveillance light prowled back and forth along the wall. It lighted on the fat cat. Pussy hissed and disappeared.

"My mistake. Just an escaped pet."

Harsh voices snarled. The light snapped off.

It was divine intervention, Charlie told himself. Others thought it was the huge stash of stimms Charlie bought from his looting but a change definitely overcame him.

He was the chosen one. Herald of a new faith to sweep away the Judges and rule Mega-City One. Had the fat cat not intervened just at the right moment and saved him from the lousy Judges?

Charlie began to read about fat cats. In pre Mega City days, there were people who just sat around, got the cream that others laboured for and all the creds and stimms you'd ever need.

They were called fat cats.

They hated the Judges, or the state as it was called back then, and they could do what they liked, not contributing a cred for their upkeep whilst demanding special privileges.

Charlie liked the sound of that.

"And we will go forth and put the stinkin' Judges in the cubes!" yelled Charlie to his faithful followers.

"Them's that we don't pow pow, of course!"

His followers cheered. Sure, they were a rag tag bunch of old gangs and the mentally ill but that's how all religions got going.

Charlie waved again; he had quite the following now, fifty at least were there. All new members of the church of the Fat Cat. They were gonna beat the Judges to pulp.

Then he heard a sound he didn't like.

"I've heard enough. Bike cannon."

His followers were mown down. Charlie ran.

He felt a massive impact that knocked him over. He looked down. His insides were now outside.

Charlie crawled to the side of the walkway.

It couldn't be. He was the chosen one.

Charlie looked up. A large fat, black cat gazed down at him.

It looked hungry.

[...And Justice for AllBy Marlowe]

...And Justice for All
By Marlowe

He swaggered up towards the bench wearing a stained, wrinkled bedsheet and a smirk. Perched atop his head was what appeared to be half a dead cat and around his neck was a rather effeminate frilly neckpiece.

"You are the defendant?" said Judge Nicely, one eyebrow raised.

"I am the defendant's barrister, sir."

"Excuse me?"

"His counsel, sir."

"Litigants have no right to counsel," said the bailiff.

"I'll allow it," Nicely said. "Just get it over with quickly."

The lawyer gazed into the middle distance with sparkling eyes that overflowed with the justice and purity of his noble cause. He flourished his hands with maximum histrionics. "Innocence... until proof of guilt... is the foundation of our justice system."

"No, it isn't," Nicely cut in. "And this is a civil claims court."

"It's relevant, sir, I assure you. I remind you of this precept, because my client was NEVER given its benefit. He was treated as a CRIMINAL at the hands of EVERYONE in his ENTIRE LIFE. By the JUDGES, by the PLAINTIFF... HE is the sad, sad victim here –"

"For grud's sake, say something of relevance to the defendant's case or get out!"

The lawyer levelled a trembling index finger at Nicely, his makeshift wig slipping askew. "I put it to YOU, Judge, that you're obstructing my client's case!"

"What?" Nicely facepalmed.

"Hang on. Cocaine break." The lawyer bent down and snorted a couple of lines. "I'm a brilliant lawyer but I do drugs and gamble and screw prostitutes because that makes me edgy, see."

"You are one step away from thrown in the cubes for contempt!" shouted Nicely.

"All right, sir, I'll get to my closing address," replied the lawyer. He plunged his hand into his trousers, exposed his organ and began to masturbate in front of the block court.

"Enough! Judge Wilson, remove that man."

The lawyer struggled like blue blazes in the bailiff's grip, refusing to go quietly. "This is drokkin' injustice! I object, sir, I fervently object! I'll have you know I'll be appealing to the International Court of Justice and –"

A round from Nicely's Lawgiver cracked the air, cutting the lawyer's diatribe mercifully short.

"Grud. So this is why we did away with the system."