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Wasn't sure whether to stick this in "Creative Common" or here, but anyway.

I've been farting about with a cheapo graphics tablet and some art packages for a while now but I've found that there are good and bad points to all of them. The one I use most for drawing is Gimp but I've found Pshop 6 elements better on the colour side of things, Inkscape I couldn't get on with at all and some of them like Illustrator seem pretty pricey. It's time to settle on one and learn it properly.

So my question is what art packages do people use? Which ones are the best to actually invest some time in and learn how to use proficiently? I know Jim mentioned one of the Manga programs recently and Painter is reasonably priced but there are so many out there.

I know some of you guys are professional artists and I'd love to hear what people who use art packages to make their livings think on the subject. What do you use?

I've written a short story for the comp in Open Office but I can't work out how to post it. I'm sure it's straightforward but I haven't got a clue what format to save it in or how to tranfer it here. Any advice will be gratefully received.

Cheers Kerrin.

I helped a mate of mine clear out the attic of his house a while back and there were a load of old progs that had no home to go to other than the tip so...

I'm keeping the earlier stuff i.e 400ish and before till I can work out what I've already got. But the rest can go to whomsoever wants them. They're in the 400 to 700ish range and there are some duplicates as well, I've got no intention of going through and listing them but there are about 100 or so I'd guess.
If you want them, come and get them, they're under my bench at work so there's no time limit, they're not in the way. My work place is in Partridge Green, W.Sussex so if you're local or passing this way and want them, let me know. Postcode is RH13 8AU if you want to google map it. I'll have a closer look if anyone is interested and give you a better idea of what's actually there. I think there might be a couple of 'Screams' as well, I haven't actually looked too closely other than to pull out the early stuff.

Cheers Kerrin.

Welcome one and all to the third running of the short story comp here on the Galaxy's Greatest Forum.

Last time round we had a superb turnout for "Crossover Chaos" with a load of new faces making a bid for literary greatness. An excellent and hard fought battle ended up with The Legendary Shark taking the victory and with it the right to choose the subject of the comp this time. So in the words of the Shark himself here it is, pay attention at the back...

Downtime.

How does that sound? You can use any interpretation of the word you want, any character or world from Twoothy and the Meg - Hell, shall we allow Future Shocks, Time Twisters and Terror Tales as well? Why not?  Oh, and the word "donkey" must appear somewhere in the story...

Got that? 500 words or less. The inclusion of the word "donkey" will not be rigorously enforced.

The competition will run till midnight of Sunday the 16th of August. That's right only ONE month this time. After which we will attempt to have a round of voting.

The prize is literary immortality, the deafening applause of your peers and the choice of subject for the next comp. I know I said that I wouldn't be dishing out any actual prizes this time round but I've got a copy of "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Century: 1910" signed by the compact but magnificent Mr.Kevin O'Neill that was bought as a prize so the winner will receive that whether they want it or not. Capeesh?

I look forward to seeing what the Squaxx conjure up in their fevered brain pans for this one and for those seeking inspiration may I take the liberty of quoting that mojito soaked giant of the writing firmament, Ernest Hermingway...

"The most essential gift for a good writer is a built-in shock-proof shit-detector"

Words of immense wisdom there from Captain Beardy.

So to sum up, "Downtime" 2000AD/Megazine and Future Shock/Time Twisters/Terror Tales based. 500 words. Must include the word "donkey" (very optional) and the comp ends midnight Sunday,August the 16th.

Good luck and happy scribing.

And the results are....

Very encouraging. The level of creativity displayed this time round has been truly inspirational and I for one am extremely impressed with the writing skills displayed by the  heart warmingly warped denizens of the board.  

Mike Carroll came up with a great subject in "Crossover Chaos" and people dutifully put their brains on the table and let it all hang out. Thank you all.

Where else, other than in these hallowed halls of literary excellence would you come across such splendid encounters as these?
 
Congratulations one and all.

In third we have a meeting of two men who you definitely wouldn't call a blouse in the pub. Our favourite cockney landlord meets an upstart colonial in The Legendary Sharks vignette of violence...

Welcome to the War, Frank.

"So, you're the geezer Uncle Sam sent, eh?" said Bill, clicking cartridges into his shooter.

"Nobody sent me nowhere, buddy, I came on my own dime," said Frank. "Heard there was some punishin' to be done."

"Furry muff, we can use all the help we can get. You're gonna' have to lose that skull off your bird's nest**, though. Sticks out a mile."

Frank Castle shook his head. "Uh-uh. That's my thing, man. I'm the Punisher, see, an' that's my symbol. It stays. Period. Y'see, I had this kid..."

A dog barked six times nearby and Savage silenced the big American. "Quiet. Patrol coming, half a dozen men."

"You got dogs as scouts? How'd you teach 'em to count?"

"It's Yappy Joe, you muppet, doing an impression of a cherry*. Six barks equals six Volgs." Savage reached into his coat and retrieved a grenade which he held out to Castle. "Here, this is your audition. Take 'em out."

Frank smiled and refused the grenade. "Audition? Okay, buddy, you got it, but I audition my way – Punisher style!"

Castle removed his own weaponry and left it in a pile at the Londoner's feet before bounding off into the darkness. The patrol marched into the alley and for a moment Savage thought this "Punisher" character had bottled it. He pressed himself into the shadows, his finger ready at the grenade's pin, and watched as Frank struck.

Silently, the Punisher gripped the helmet of the last man in the patrol and pulled it back like a lever, instantly snapping the soldier's neck. Before his body had even hit the ground, Castle had stolen a knife off the corpse and used it to slit the next soldier's throat, but hot blood gushing onto the back of the third man's neck ended his element of surprise and the remaining four turned to face their attacker.

Castle punched the nearest one in the throat and he fell to his knees gasping fruitlessly for breath as the remaining three raised their weapons, but he'd chosen his ground wisely and there was little room for rifles in the narrow alley. Another Volgan fell after a kick dislocated his skull and the penultimate soldier hardly had time to realise what was happening before Castle thrust his own gun butt into his face, bursting his brain. The last Volgan tried to get a message to headquarters but Frank strangled him with the microphone cord.

When all six Volgans were down, Castle took a knife and made sure of them before returning to Bill's side, grinning widely.

"Well?" he asked, "do I get the job?"

Savage shook his head. "No chance, Twinkletoes."

Castle stood with a face like a melted wellie. "Why the Hell not?"

Savage shrugged. "You fuck about too much," he said.

_________
Tharg's Cockney Rhyming Slang Translation Service.
**bird's nest = chest
*cherry = cherry hog; dog.

In second we were treated to a brooding tale of a man possessed by a perverted desire for justice finding himself up against the Burgermeister of Bok in His Lordship RAC's...

Rorschach crouched in the alley. In the shade of the dumpster he listened as two Top Knots whispered.
He despised them, with their drug dimmed eyes; their lifestyle that took from society. Why couldn't people be like him and try to make the world a better place instead of sinking into filth and wallowing there?
It was raining hard. The thud of water on his hat drowned out most of what they were saying. He could pick out the important words.
Something new was going down in New York. Someone had the scum running scared.
Rorschach would be happy at this news... ordinarily.
But whoever it was doing the scaring wasn't a mask.
He was as bad as the animals that were bolting for their sordid little holes.
It had been smashing up one of Veidt's labs downtown a couple of nights ago. Rorschach had heard it on the police scanner. He always had it on loud. It helped drown out the whore who owned the building.
By the time he had got there it was over and two policemen were dead. Rorschach considered it a duty to track down and punish whoever had done this.
And that's why he was squatting in the alley.
This new guy had set up a base. Already the criminals down the food chain were circling to find their place in this new hierarchy.
The Top Knots were saying their goodbyes. Rorschach knew which of them he had to follow. He shifted his weight, reading to move off.
At that moment though, a flash of lightening filled the alley with a sheet of blue white light illuminating his hiding place.
The scum saw him and yelled, each one pulling a gun as they did so.
Rorschach lifted a half broken bottle from the rubbish strewn alley floor and was there in two easy steps before they fumbled their guns free. He opened the throat of the useless one. It gurgled once- something that might have been a curse, and fell with the rest of the trash.
The other tried to run, but Rorschach caught him. He held the bloody bottle up.
'We need to talk.'

After he got the information he needed, Rorschach was climbing into the window of the room he knew this new scum to be in. It smelled of shit and death.
He was sleeping on a chair in the gloom, his back to window. Rorschach clicked on a lamp. The criminal awoke with a start. He still had his back to Rorschach.
'Get up and turn around. Slowly.'
The scum did so, not speaking.
'You need to get out of my city or I'll kill you.'
The criminal cocked his head and said, 'Izzat so? Well, no-one tells me to get outta their city lessen I tell 'em they can tell me to get outta their city! Hell, ya got me all riled up now- am gonna have ta go up ta four on ya!'
Then it went dark.

And in first place, give a victorious roar of HOORAH, for the most crossed up creation of cuckoo craziness, as voted for by the magnificent members of the 2000AD forum. The lawman of the future puts his interrogation skills to the test against a triumvirate of universe hopping cubees in another tale from the font of fabulousness that is.....

THE LEGENDARY SHARK. A clear and away winner with...

Iso-Block Omega

Dredd slid back the observation hatch and regarded the wretched prisoner inside the specially constructed Iso-Cube. The black haired man looked up, his face haggard and drawn under the sickly green lighting.

"You recognise this, creep?" Dredd demanded, holding up a holograph for the perp to see.

The prisoner screwed up his eyes for a moment and then shook his head weakly. "No," he said. "Please, whatever it is, if you let me out of here I can help you..."

"Fat chance," Dredd growled. "All I need from you is information, so you either spill or you're no use to me."

"I... I haven't seen anything like that before, honestly. Just... just let me out of here and I'll investigate. I'm... I'm powerful... more powerful than you can..."

"Yeah, yeah, so you keep saying," Dredd said, preparing to shut the hatch. "You might be some big noise on your own turf, Kal-El, but to me you're just another dangerous vigilante slimeball."

"Please, I'm begging you, I need to see Loi..."

Dredd slammed the hatch shut and moved on to the occupant of the next cube.

"You recognise this, creep?" Dredd demanded, holding up the holograph for the perp to see.

The prisoner in this surprisingly large cube donned a pair of glasses to observe the image and then smiled mawkishly. "Hello," he said through a cheery grin. "I've got no idea what that is, but it looks spiky, doesn't it? Planet in danger, eh? That's the thing about planets, they're always in danger. Well, not all of them. Well, not from whatever that is. Well..."

Dredd growled and slid back the observation hatch as the hyperactive Brit babbled urgently at him.

"Look, I can help you! All I need is the blue box I arrived in and..." The sentence was cut off with a sharp, metallic clang.

The chained robot in the next cube regarded Dredd's holograph for an instant before giving its standard response; "Object does not correspond to known data concerning primary target John Connor. Release this unit or face the conse..."

Dredd slammed shut the hatch and moved to the next cube. It might take a while, but one of these weirdos would know something.

Congratulations Monsieur le Shark. Take a bow and bask in the unbridled admiration of your fellow boarders

Honorable mentions must go to the force of chaos that is Mr.Roger Godpleton. Good stuff.

PM me with your choice of GN and where you'd like it sent Sharky, and get your finest foil beret on and take cosmic counsel for the subject of the next comp fella.

I'd just like to reiterate how much I enjoy reading all of these short stories and I'm guessing quite a few of you do too. I think we'll have to have another tinker with the design of the comp for next time with regard to the voting and whether or not to make it a monthly thing.

Cheers folks for all of your efforts, and congratulations again to the legend that is the Shark.

Well done to one and all and away we go with the voting.

Vote for your top three stories in order and an honorable mention if you like. Don't forget to state which one of a writer's  stories you're voting for if they've written more than one.

Take your time to read them all and the voting will run till midnight on Sunday the 5th of July (or more likely teatime-ish Monday the 6th when I get home from work). So there's plenty of time to peruse them all.

The stories will start with His Lordship RAC's and end with Zarjazzer's so no voting till that one is up please.

Thanks again to everyone whose taken the time and effort to enter and I'd just like to add that I've enjoyed reading all of these immensely, we really should get Green Bonce to have look at them, there's potential script droids in here for certain.

Right, here we go.

Greetings literati, and welcome to the second 2000AD forum short story comp.

Pens, pads, keyboards, stylii, biros and wax tablets at the ready.

This time round the challenge is to write a story of 500 words or less. Last time round it was a 1000 words or less but that proved somewhat daunting at the voting stage of the competition, so we'll try 500 and see what we come up with.

The creative colossus that is MIKE CARROLL was our winner in the first competition and as is his right as victor has chosen the subject of the comp this time round. So I'll hand you over to Mike for a moment as he clues us in,

It's Crossover Time! Entries must feature at least one 2000 AD character meeting up with a character (or characters) from anywhere outside 2000 AD - other comics, books, TV, movies...

Examples:
Canon Fodder vs. Father Jack
Slaine vs. Ike Broflovsky
Walter the Wobot vs. Wambo (I mean, Rambo)

That sound like fun to anyone?

-- Mike

Does it ever Mike!

So there it is, 500 words or less, the competition will run till midnight of the 28th of JUNE.

I'm expecting high grade lunacy from all and sundry. Make us all proud.

WELL DON"T SIT THERE READING THIS, GET WRITING!

My enormous thanks to everyone who participated in this competition. I know it's not easy to find the time for these things and I'd like to thank you all for your efforts. Cheers.

We've had 15 excellent stories and one about fishmen (sorry Mr.Lovecraft) to enjoy, and some of the writing has left me gobsmacked. Funny, thrilling and shocking stories that all showed great imagination and creativity. Well done to one and all.

So without further ado...and I'm almost certain this is right...

In 3rd place.

One of the funniest things I've read for a long time, the comedic masterpiece that is,

THE LEGENDARY SHARK 2. "THE QUIP".

Hi, your old pal Samantha C. Slade here. The C stands for creek, crap and canoe – but not paddle, which is pretty much par for the course. Today ain't no exception.

Today I've been mostly hanging upside down from a meat hook, coiled from collar to calves in a carbon cord and hoping the next C in my itinerary ain't gonna' be cemetery. I kinda' came in at the middle there, so here's a recap:

There's this tin-pot R&D lab down the road from my office called the Fuzzlewit Advanced Robotics Team, run by a geek with a massive IQ and no appreciation of acronyms. The MD, Marvin Fuzzlewit, called me in on "a matter of ultimate delicacy" that "might have unfortunate consequences for civilisation" and, when I arrived, spent the first hour explaining to me in great detail how the first series of an old 2D show called Start Wreck was superior to all later series. I wasn't really listenin', it's hard to pay attention to somebody dressed like a fictional starship captain. He had this weird wig, see, and...

Anyway, long story short, FART developed something called a Synthetic Intelligence Node, a genius robot to you and me, and they're quite proud of it. Going to change the world, he said. I shoulda' gotten out of there right then because things designed to change the world tend to get antsy when they go nuts.

SIN had been driven nuts because Fuzzlewit locked it up for six months while lawyers tried to work out what it was. FART used robotic, cybernetic, bionic and human synapses in its construction and so nobody knew how the hell to classify it and, since unclassified robots aren't allowed, SIN found itself in a cupboard. It didn't think this was a good use of its time and busted out. Fuzzlewit kept quiet but SIN decided to play the stock market and made a big enough fortune to destabilise the whole economy, which is bad. Apparently. So they hired me to find SIN, which I did, and which is why I'm hanging upside down from a meat hook in SINs secret lair. These things love their secret lairs, I've been trapped and imprisoned in all kinds so I know what I'm talkin' about here, and this one's a doozy.

SIN bought up gold bars with its profits. There's racks and racks of the stuff on every wall, a ton on each rack. I'm hangin' off one of 'em thinkin' how this must be the most expensive dungeon I've been trapped in and wondering if things can get worse when, predictably, they do.

"What'cha' doin' up there, Sam, huh? Keep fit?"

Hoagy looks up at me like a brain damaged tractor and I'm foolish enough to be encouraged. "Get me down before SIN gets back!"

"Okay, Sam, uh-huh, no problem. Say, Sam, before I do that, can I do the quip, huh?"

Something like a rat trapped in a biro runs out the shadows and climbs up Hoagy's leg. "Ay, ay, ay, Hoagy! The Señorita has been capchored again!"

"But, I want to do the quip, Sam. How about it, huh? Just this once?"

"What in all the Twelve Tarnations are you talking about, Hoagy? Get me down!"

"At the end of every case you do a quip, Sam, uh-huh?"

While Hoagy stands there talking nonsense, Stogie springs onto the wall and climbs. "Haff no fear, Señorita, Stogie to thee rescue!"

"You know, Sam, like, um..." Hoagy's scratching his head but I'm watching Stogie, who's climbing like a good 'un. "Like, uh, 'he got the boot' and 'I think he got the point,' Sam. You know?"

I'm not paying attention because Stogie's arrived. "Thee meet hok, she is a seemple magnetic deevice..."

"So I thought, when this case is over, I could, uh, do the quip? Whaddoya' say, Sam, huh?"

Hoagy's voice is just noise by now, my attention suddenly drawn to the eight feet of nothing between me and concussion. "Stogie..."

Of course, it's way too late and there's this really quiet but ominous little click. "I sweetch her off, Señorita, you are free!"

For free, read free fall.

"Gee, Sam, you want me to catch you, huh?"

* * *

I come 'round still tied up because Hoagy's useless. I tell him to get a move on but he keeps chunnering on about wanting to do the quip and I say okay so's he can concentrate both brain cells on the knots. It don't make any difference.

"Bwa-ha, ha haaa!"

Oh great, SIN's back. The cleverest robot on the planet an' all I got's a carbon cord corset and idiots. The Slade brain cells spin and come up with a plan that won't work but it's the best I got and so...

"Take that, Señor SEEN!" Stogie pulls the lever that keeps the racks straight and they fold, spilling gold onto SIN and crushing it like an egg.

I look at Hoagy but he just looks back at me. "Well? You wanted the quip, so quip."

"Hmmm, harder than it looks, Sam, yup."

"Hoagy – this one's easy! The gold that SIN earned fell on him and crushed him to death. How hard can it be?"

His brain rattles while he thinks about it. "Well, Sam, uh, I guess that's like the golden handshake, huh?"

I'm still tied up, so I can't slap my own forehead.

"Caramba, Hoagy! That ees stupeed! The queep, she ees obvious! You look at SEEN croshed by his wages and you say; 'That's what I call a credeet cronch!'"

Maybe the C stands for cursed.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

In 2nd place,

Transdimensional madness from the master of late night disaster. An apocryphal tale of capes, chins and mustachioed motorcycles.

GODPLETON 2.

BATMAN/JUDGE DREDD V: THE WAGES OF SIN

Judge Dredd and Guthrie were on a motorbike ride. Or rather, Judge Dredd was on a motorbike ride. Guthrie had recently had some new modifications made to his robotic body so that he was now capable of transforming into a motorcycle. It was Dredd's job to make sure there were no problems with Guthrie when he was being ridden as a motorcycle or Lawmaster.

"Y'know Guth, I was sceptical at first, but I really enjoy having you between my legs" said Dredd. Guthrie replied: "I was a bit wary of letting you use my ass as a seat Joe, it's just lucky I don't have piles!" They both laughed heartily, but Dredd was actually faking because he didn't understand what Guthrie meant by "piles".

They were happily driving along when they came to a playground. That playground had a man in it. Or rather a Batman. It was Batman in the playground. And he was here for Dredd. And now he had Dredd. Dredd wasn't expecting to see Batman ever again, but he still wanted Batman. And now he had Batman. Batman and Judge Dredd. Judge Dredd and Batman. They had each other. And Guthrie was there as well.

"Hello Batman, or should I say BRUCE WAYNE".
"Oh wow, you know my real name, I knew you knew my name ages ago. I'm over it now, just like I'm over your mom."
Dredd was flustered by this comeback. For the pride of Mega-City One, he knew he had to come back with something good. "Well that shows what you know. I don't even HAVE a mom, douchebag". Guthrie shook his head in embarrassment, both for himself and for Dredd, and also for Justice Department as a whole.

"Anyway, why are you here. No wait I already figured it out. Now who's the Dark Knight Detective?" Batman was taken back at this riposte, even if was belated.
"You know I don't actually refer to myself as that?"
"Yeah whatever. This is revenge for that time I showed up in a playground and had a fight with you. You are so petty and lame. I was trying to save you from The Ventriloquist or whoever it was. Is this how you repay your FFRRIIEENNDDSS." Dredd was upset at Batman's mistrust.

Batman spoke. "I came here because I need something from you. I need you to kill a man."
"Still too much of a blubbering pussy to get blood on your hands, eh?"
"Shut up, he'll be here in a minute. His name is Simon Ignatius Nostro, or SIN for short. He's an irritating little malcontent," Batman looked at Guthrie and saw an opportunity "... and he's racist against robots".

SIN came into the playground through a time/space portal, but before he could say or do anything Guthrie began attacking him. He hated being a robot, and he hated people who were racist against him and his robot brethren. He used his laser to right "FU" on SIN's chest, then decided bullets would be better so he wrote "CKFACE" in bullet holes with his mouth gun. Then he went over the "FU" with his gun so that all of "FUCKFACE" was written with bullet holes.

Dredd knew Guthrie was too far gone. He said Guthrie's killword "entelechy" and made Guthrie explode. Batman said "Looks like he paid the wages of SIN. TTFN." and went off through his own time/space portal. Dredd cried hot salty tears at the death of his best friend. He had to call for a pick-up, because his bike was destroyed. This made him cry even more.

A few months later, it was Gotham city. Or rather it was Crime Alley which is in Gotham City. A young boy and his parents were coming back from the movie theatre having seen Zorro.

Justice Department were aware of the possibility that Batman might try to stop his parents from dying, and so Dredd had been sent to make sure that he stayed Batman so he could help save MC-1.

"Double Whammy." Dredd used this Lawgiver setting to make sure this part of the job was done quickly. Thomas and Martha Wayne died from being shot, and the pearls fell to the ground. Dredd looked at the grieving little boy, then remembered Guthrie. He ran at the boy and kneed him in the face. Then he went back.

Coming out of the time/space portal Anderson was waiting there for him.
"Congratulations Joe, now you have a son". She spat in his helmet and kicked him in the balls. She left Dredd there in order to let her words sink in. They never did.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

And in 1st place, the WINNER is,

A terrifying tale of greed and betrayal, masterfully told by the literary maestro that is...

MIKE CARROLL.

Edmund Proctor had been on the run for less than five minutes and already he was thinking of turning himself in.

Judges'll grant me immunity. I can tell them how it started.

But it was too late. He knew that. It had been too late from the moment the spy had approached him.

Five minutes ago Proctor had climbed out of a cab outside his laboratory. Four lawmasters had been parked outside.

Proctor had walked around the side of the building. He'd started to run.

Proctor knew that it was his own fault. He'd been careless with the money. The spy had warned him: "Don't change your life-style. The judges watch out for that. Spend more than you should and they will come knocking."

Proctor had only been half-listening – the rest of his attention had been on the half-million credits, inside the briefcase the spy had opened on Proctor's desk.

"Half now," the spy said, "and the rest if the sample works."

"It'll work." He looked up at the well-toned, dark-haired man long enough to pass over the small plasteen-encased vial, then returned his attention to the money.

The virus had worked, of course. Edmund Proctor hadn't become the Big Meg's foremost molecular biologist without knowing his stuff.

Proctor ran. Three blocks away from the lab now. Slow down. Take it easy. Nothing more suspicious than someone running when they don't have to.

He forced himself to walk.

A month after the first meeting, the spy had returned with a second briefcase.

As Proctor eagerly counted the money, the spy asked, "What else have you got?"

"That wasn't enough?"

"Your sample works, but now I want something a little more subtle. Something that won't turn people into monsters. Not on the surface, anyway."

Proctor considered this. "I might have something for you. Though I should warn you it's got a slow burn – takes time for the effects to be noticed. It hugely magnifies the subject's paranoia and arrogance. It can cause severe hallucinations, delusions of godhood, solipsism—"

"I'll take it."

Proctor pursed his lips. "Won't be cheap. I'll have to by-pass a dozen levels of security."

The man leaned forward, palms on Proctor's desk. "One hundred million credits. Cash, gold, diamonds, or I can set you up with an off-shore bank account, whatever suits."

Proctor's mouth had suddenly dried. "Bank account would be good."

The man handed him a scrap of paper. "Memorise this number and password. There's fifty million in the account already. You get the rest if the sample works."

Proctor nodded dumbly.

"When?"

"Tomorrow morning."

That had been yesterday. For a few hours, Edmund Proctor had been a multi-millionaire. Now he was sweating, glancing over his shoulder, trying to walk fast and look casual at the same time.

This morning, in the taxi, it had all changed.

In his pocket was a small plasteen block containing two millilitres of a clear liquid.

This morning, Edmund Proctor had realised that the man was not just an industrial spy. This wasn't about one bio-weapons company hoping to get a leap ahead of the competition.

This was about the destruction of an entire city.

The TV in the taxi had shown him everything: Mega-City Two in flames, its citizens rampaging, ferocious, blood-thirsty... One of them – a once-pretty young woman – threw herself at the camera, her eyes red, hands clawed, teeth bared. Proctor had seen this before. Once, in the lab. The test subject had only stopped fighting when a guard managed to jab an electro-probe into the back of the man's neck.

The TV report said that the Chief Judge had promised that Mega-City One would send aid, a team travelling overland across the Cursed Earth, carrying a vaccine.

Proctor rounded a corner, spotted two judges on foot-patrol. He turned left into a narrow, quiet alleyway.

Then a voice behind him said, "The judges didn't go to your laboratory to arrest you, Proctor."

He turned around to see the spy staring down at him.

"They were looking for your advice on the plague in Mega-City Two. Or, rather, how to prevent it from spreading here."

Proctor slumped back against a wall as relief washed through him.

"By now, though, they'll have discovered that you took a taxi to the lab and ran away as soon as you saw their bikes." The tall man held out his hand, palm up. "You've got it?"

The knot in Proctor's stomach tightened. "You... you set the virus loose in Mega-City Two! Millions of people are dead – or worse."

"That was the point. Now hand over the vial or I'll just kill you and take it from you."

His hand trembling, Proctor dropped the plasteen block into the spy's open palm. "You're going to do the same thing here, aren't you?"

"No. Mega-City Two was an experiment, but the outcome wasn't what we wanted. There's no cure for 2T(fru)T. But my people will test this one, we'll develop a cure." He paused. "I can't let you live, Proctor. East-Meg One thanks you for your part in its upcoming invasion, but your story ends here."

Proctor tried to squirm away. "No, Orlok, please! I'll give you back all the money – I'll do anything!"

"This will be painless. Just close your eyes."

"You don't know that the sample even works!"

"True. But I'll know within the week. A one-man test should be sufficient. I have arranged a... cultural meeting... this morning with one of your city's most senior judges. I'll test the sample on him. Close your eyes, Proctor."

Proctor slowly sank to his knees. "But the virus might not work on Judge Dredd! He's a clone, genetically almost perfect. He's too strong-willed... Let me live and I'll find someone more suitable!"

"Dredd?" The soviet judge raised an eyebrow. "Never heard of him. My meeting is with Deputy Chief Judge Cal."

Edmund Proctor closed his eyes for the last time. Strong hands tightened around his throat.

CONGRATULATIONS MIKE!

Send me a PM with your choice of graphic novel and where you'd like it sent (I'll PM you my e-mail if that's preferable) and I'll get it sorted out.

Your other task, you lucky devil, is to come up with the subject of the next competition. Post it here when you've got one.

Congratulations again and enjoy your well deserved adulation.


Thanks again as well to everybody who took part, and I know there are plenty of people who would have liked to but didn't get the chance, don't worry, there's always next time.

We need to sort out a few kinks, but once there's a general consensus where we go with this the next comp will start. With a subject of Mike's choice. No pressure Mike.

Well short story fans, the level of entry was superb. The members of the board have distinguished themselves in exemplary fashion and works of towering audacity and guile have been produced. Some will make you laugh, some will make you sad and at least one will make you groan. Congratulations to all those who had a go, you're all stars.

Vote for your top three and an honorable mention if you like.

Stories will start with Godpleton 1 and end with Zarjazzer. Please take the time to read them all (if you haven't already) and no voting till I've posted Zarjazzers story please.

Voting will run till midnight of the 30th April, or thereabouts. I will then make my calculations and post a results thread soon as poss. The winner will receive eternal fame and a graphic novel of their choice. They will also be granted the herculean task of choosing the subject of the next competition.

I've been getting into reading further afield than the 2000AD sphere and so far Dark Empire is all I've read of the Star Wars graphic novels. Any advice on other series to read? Knights of the Old Republic looks good but there seem to be quite a few others. Where's best to start?

A competition designed to showcase the fictional might of the 2000AD board members. All are welcome to submit a story of 1000 words or less. Multiple submissions are welcome but must be entirely separate stories. Characters/settings/universes will be based on those from the 2000AD/Megazine pantheon. Closing date will be midnight of the 24th of April 2009. Voting to run till the 30th of that month.

The voting will work on the same basis as the art comp, top three in order and an honorable mention if you like. The winner will be carried shoulder high through the Grand Hall of the forum and will also receive a graphic novel of their choice (no £50 ultimate editions mind). They will also have the herculean task of choosing the subject and what characters they wish to be used for the next competition.

Any obvious mistakes in the organisation of this competition, please let me know. I realise you lot like to keep your opinions to yourselves but don't be shy.

As this is the first one I'm going to get the ball rolling by selecting the subject.

So a story of 1000 words or less based on any 2000AD/Megazine characters or universe, the subject of which is...

                     "THE WAGES OF SIN"

Not exactly original I know, but what the hell it gives you plenty of scope doesn't it. I envision this competition being bi-monthly or possibly quarterly, we'll see how it goes.

Was just having a think about other competitions that we could maybe have a bash at. I enjoy the art comp that Jim runs so much that I thought maybe we could have a couple of others for those of a less artistic bent.

So far I've come up with a couple of ideas and wanted to find out what others thought and whether any had been tried in the past.

1. Quarterly short story competition :- As the title suggests we have a subject or character etc and then decide upon a maximum length of story (fairly short I'm thinking). People submit a piece no longer than the agreed length. Voting as per the art comp, and the winner chooses the next subject. This could of course be a monthly comp like the art one.

2. Caption competition:- A panel is chosen from the 2000ad/Megazine archives and people submit there own interpretation of what the speech bubbles should read. Pretty straightforward.

Any other ideas?

I have started this thread to post any damn doodle you like.

So to kick off here is one what I have done. Not entirely sure what it is but appears to be a heavily armed telly tubby.



I think I'll call him Derek.

Is there a time limit on posting a reply. Logged on to post review of prog 2009, wrote it out, went to submit it and it asked me to log in again and when I did my review which I had just lovingly crafted was gone. Seriously pissed off.

Been looking at getting some of the Goon books and wondered if anyone knew which actually comes first, "The Goon-Nothin' but misery" or "The Goon-Rough Stuff". "Nothin' but misery" is listed as V.1 but the description of "Rough Stuff" is "..the earliest stories published for the first time". Any ideas?

What are the chances of that many people on the forum having the same birthday 10/10/08.

Due to the decision of the Justice Department Accounts Division to extrude credits at will, the Research and Development service is now inviting tenders from all interested parties to put forward considered applications for funding regarding equipment of a useful nature to the JUSTICE DEPARTMENT.

Timewasters will be JUDGED...Severely.

Hows about a new thread where genii such as myself (ahem), can post the brilliant ideas we've had for new Justice Department equipment, feasible or daft, for the consideration of the official procurement board i.e anyone with an opinion (not many of those round here).

For instance, a shoulder eagle which can turn into predator drone type thing with missiles and possibly a bad attitude (working drawings to follow) or new and entertaining rounds for the lawgiver, armoured codpieces, the possibilities are endless.

Would this be the place to post or would the general section be a better locale? If there is already a thread along these lines then my 'umble apologies.

Been having a trundle round amazon and ebay etc and noticed that Cam has done quite a few Star Wars stories and also a series called "The light and darkness wars". Now I've always liked Cam's work, in my opinion he's one of the most natural draughtsmen in comics but apart from his artwork are the non 2000ad titles any good? I'm definately going to get Kidnapped and Jekyll & Hyde but not sure about the others.

Wonder if anyone can help a complete luddite i.e me, to move the picture I've done for the art comp from photobucket to this site? Managed to confuse the shit out of myself.

Cheers Kerrin.