JAN/FEB Short Story VOTING THREAD (with prizes)

[Bad City Blue]

Okay, you filth ridden scum, time to read a few stories and pick out your faves.

Just list your top three in order, and at the end the most popular will win a 2000AD graphic novel, as will one voter picked at random by my cat.

The idea was to mash up two or more 200)AD characters for a fresh look at old stuff.

Get voting, wastrels.

Bad City Blue

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EAMONN1961

Getting to know you.

Quartz reached forward and pressed the intercom button on his desk.
"Right, Ms Helvetica. How many more are there to see?"

"Just the one, Mr Quartz. A nice young droid from sector 17."

"Splendid. Send him and let's wrap this up"

The door buzzed and a small service droid waddled into the room.

"Good day, young fellow. My name is Howard Quartz. Thank you for coming in today."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Ten... Err... Mr Quartz. Thanks for seeing me.

Quartz scanned the file on his desk. "You work in one of the new con-apt mega blocks?"

"Yes, sir. I'm a maintenance and janitorial operative in Wogan block."

"Ah, Wogan. Named after the famous interviewer no doubt?"

"I'm not sure. I know he was in The Interview but I don't think that was ever weleased?"

"What? Never mind. To business. You know what we do here at Ro-Busters. We are an international search and rescue organisation with a reputation

"Oh yes, sir. I know all about the fabulous work you do and I'm very keen to be a part of that."

"Now, you have probably heard of our top operatives, Ro-jaws and Hammerstein? Well, they are splendid fellows, very good at what they do. But when it comes to their public relations skills they are ... how shall I put this? ... somewhat abrasive. Probably because of their background, the work they were doing before they joined us didn't really focus on customer service. So we need a droid who can be the visible persona of Ro-Busters. Someone who can deal with customers, run press conferences, deal with the media, be a cheerful presence on social media. How does that sound?"

"Absolutely, sir. I can do that. It would be a tremendous honour to work for Wo-Busters."

"Woe-busters? That's brilliant! We can use that. 'Woe-Busters. Service that puts a smile on your face'. I knew I was paying the marketing department too much. I can see you are going to be an asset to the company already, young fellow. You're hired."

"Weally? Oh, Mr Quartz, I can't tell you what an honour it is to be the newest wecruit to the wanks of the wescue wangers. It's a dweam come twue. I've always wanted to work with Wo-Jaws and Hammerstein. It makes me want to whistle a happy tune or sing the hills are alive with the sound of music."

"Errr ... Yes, quite. Just pop through to Ms Helvetica and she'll do all the necessary wecruit..., I mean recruitment processes and sign you up. Welcome aboard, .... What was your name again?"

"Walter, sir. Walter T Wobot at your service. I'm weady and standing by for action. Can I just add one wemark?"

"Of course, Walter. Wemark, I mean remark away."

"WO-BUSTERS ARE GO!"

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TIM TAILZ

Cold Blooded

The roar of the lawmaster's engines scattered the few juves who had gathered at the scene of the crime, the mounted headlights reflecting off the assorted safety pins and tags which ran wild over the youths ramshackle jackets. Within a moment the street was empty, save for one Judge, one lawmaster, and one body.

It was a forbidding corner of Mega City One, though in fairness there were few corners which could be described as otherwise. The grey concrete of the various nondescript buildings seemed to sap all the life out of the place, the occasional scrawl of crude graffiti the only break in the monotony of dullness and conformity, though even the graffiti seemed half hearted at best. Nothing productive would ever occur on these streets. These were the streets were people came to loiter, simply marking as much time as possible in the endemic boredom that constituted life in the big meg. The crumpled corpse on the pavement indicated that at least one citizen had loitered here for too long.

The body lay beneath the harsh electronic glow of a failing street light, the flickering illumination turning the body's skin a sickly, pumpkin orange. Removing his sweat encrusted gauntlets, the Judge knelt down beside the body, taking what had been the young man's hand between his own. The skin was cold and clammy to the touch, the last vestiges of life having long since ebbed away. The pools of blood, spattered up the length of one side of the street, had begun to congeal, taking on a dark, rust tinged aspect, as if the lifeless atmosphere of the streets were sucking the vitality out of the visceral fluid. A single jagged wound tore across the man's neck, exposing the inside of the throat itself, heavily coated in a mixture of dried blood and cigarette stains. The killer had been anything but subtle. No doubt whoever had committed the crime would have taken a substantial amount of the young man's blood away with them. Throat wounds tended to be messy.

The Judge sighed, letting the young man's hand fall limply to the ground. He'd been dead for too long. He'd already turned stale. But the rotting stench from the man's blood still danced through the judges senses, a unique cacophony of odours and natural fragrances, fear mixed with a massive dose of adrenalin. The judge sniffed loudly, inhaling a lungful of rancid mega city air. If the killer had been covered in the victims blood, then there would be nowhere he could hide now, nowhere where he wouldn't be able to find him. And when he did...

He thought briefly about calling for a meat wagon, but decided against it. He was hungry, and now he had a perp to find. A perp to bring to justice. A perp to feed upon. Judge Constanta gunned the engine of his lawmaster and sped off into the night, the centuries old lust for blood taking hold once more.

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LOBO BAGGINS

The Informer

The hab unit was filthy and unkempt, the walls and ceiling rendered colourless by ingrained grime and piles of reeking refuse seemed to have accumulated in the corners.  Dredd found his scowl deepening as he glared around at the detritus.  He mentally noted at least a dozen hygiene violations that would have put any human in the Cubes for a good six months.  But the rules didn't apply in Alien Town.

He took in the rest of the room with a glance, expertly noting all the details.  One corner was taken up with a large, papery mound from which a constant low droning emerged.  A vast, bloated black and yellow striped insect was slowly circling above it.  It was the size of his hand and bloated like a maggot, its tiny wings seemed to defy the laws of physics to keep it aloft.  It had a face like a mournful cherub.  There was a shelf on the opposite wall, holding a row of featureless mannequin heads that in turn held a selection of eccentric hats, apparently kept pristine in sharp contrast the rest of the room.

There was a large rodent sitting on the end of the shelf.  It looked like a sewer rat with a pig-like snout.  It was regarding him with a single, beady but intelligent looking eye.  The other eye was covered by a black eye patch.  Dredd spent a moment scowling at it, before turning his attention to the other occupant of the room.

'Okay, I'll buy it.  Any idea of what time they intend to bring the shipment in?' he asked the small, emaciated looking figure standing in front of him.

Nictitating membranes flashed over the bulbous red globes of the little creature's eyes as it stared up at him.  Long, skinny talon-like fingers tapped thoughtfully at a fleshless chin.  The hand reached up and adjusted the bowler hat perched atop its bald, grey cranium, then flicked some invisible dust from the lapel of it's exquisitely tailored pinstripe suit that only served to emphasise the creature's stick-thin body.  Abruptly, the head turned, the lipless mouth opened and a long whip-like purple tongue shot out and wrapped around the hovering insect in the corner.  Dredd caught a glimpse of the baby-faced insect's surprised expression before the mouth closed and it was swallowed whole with a disturbingly organic noise.

'One day, maybe five,' it screeched in its nails-on-a-blackboard voice.  'Definite no hee hee,' it added.  Dredd nodded, handing over the roll of bills before turning on his heel and striding towards the door.  He knew the information would be good, he'd learned that Feek the Pinstripe Freek was the best informer he had available when it came to Alien Town...
R

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GRUGZ

woad you belive it?


  A steady dripping of water from the many stalactites in the cave was the only interruption to the lord weird's task. He drew the stone across the rock face purposely, his fevered intensity  as he added to the many paintings and carvings in his cave, the small fire giving a warm yet eerie glow. The entrance to the cave was bright ,the blizzard outside blowig frigid air making the two skull swords shiver.

  "Oh! it's a pony!" one said a little too loudly as they tried to see what Feg was doing. His companion nudged him sharply in the ribs with an anxious "shhhhhh" as the drune lord turned to gaze upon them, "it is not a pony he hissed ,his concentration broken. He was about to turn and continue his portrait of the creature he was drawing which admittedly did look like a pony,adding to the fact there was a bunny and sheep in the same space when he noticed movement outside. the wind drowned most of the sound out but he could hear the sounds of battle.
"Go and see what that commotion is !" he barked at the skull sword who had spoken out of turn who was only too glad to be out of the cave.
   Suddenly there was a blood curdling scream cut short by a gurgle and a thud. The skull sword's head rolled into the cave at the feet of his friend. The second skull sword turned to fight but was split in two from nose to nuts ,his entrails spilling to the floor a puddle of blood and shit ran down to Fegs feet.

   There in the cave long hair blowing in the wind a large bulk of a man, woad covered stood axe in hand glowering at the Lord weird.

"30 of your skull swords are dead !" he looked at the mess on the floor" dirty frank admits this was a bit excessive"

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URSULA K

Suspect Package

The air conditioning unit was on the fritz. Every now and then the paper strands tied to the vent up in the corner would flare out, wave limply for a second or so, and then fall still again.

Shauna wrinkled her nose against the wafts of old man smell that would come across the room each time the strands fluttered. She was doing her best to ignore it. But then if it was bothering her it must have been killing Butch.

"So let me go through this one more time, Mister Gant, just to make sure I've got it straight," she said, idly stroking the ears of the white cat that sat in her lap, "if you don't mind."

"That's Judge Gant," the old man wheezed. It wasn't hard to see he made a habit of correcting people, and no doubt it was a habit he liked.

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry. If you don't mind, Judge Gant..."

"If you must. Time is a luxury denied to me."

He wasn't kidding. Shauna guessed the geezer had to be a hundred and fifty if he was a day and he looked a decade or two older. When he spoke, each word creaked out in shower of dust, cheap cologne, and decidedly illegal nicotine. The butler-bot behind him remained perfectly motionless, blank eyes staring fixedly ahead, hands clamped on the handles of the old man's gimp buggy.

That bot was beginning to creep her out. Worse than spiders, she thought. She ran a hand through her long black hair, let out a deep sigh, and dragged her attention back to the package that rested on the desk between them.

"You want us to deliver this package..." she said, and used her stylus to poke idly at the perfectly square box, "immediately. But you've told us nothing about it, you won't tell us what's in it, and you won't let us scan it."

The cat stood, stretched in that way that would break the back of anything that wasn't feline, and sat down in Shauna's lap again. "Maybe it's tuna."

"You think everything is tuna, Butch."

"I'll be right one day," the cat said, sniffing. "Doesn't smell like tuna though. Smells dead."

"Like tuna?"

"And cold."

"Like tuna from the fridge?"

"Old too, rotten even."

"Like Genghis' can of tuna in the fridge?"

The old man impatiently rapped his knuckles on the desk, probably breaking a bone or two. "Ms. McCullough, please!"

"Yes, sorry. But despite all that, you're still expecting us to deliver this box by hand right into Justice Central?"

"That's right," he said. "It's a simple enough request."

"I'm sorry, Judge Gant, but if I'm being honest with you this stinks..."

"And not in a good way," Butch added quietly.

Shauna ignored the interruption. "...and Zippy Couriers only deals with legal packages. Frankly you'd be better off handing some kid off the street a hundred credits and asking them to take it for you."

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[Bad City Blue]

BAD CITY CLUE


G.A.R.P 1


Ace Garp slowly swan through the fog of consciousness and opened his eyes, only to realise he was in a hospital, surrounded by doctors and a man in a snappy suit.

'Hootin' heck!' he exclaimed. 'My gurney feels like GBH has done a war dance on it. Can any o you doxy's straighten my lugs as to my ten twenty?'

The doctors looked at each other, confused. The man in the suit stepped forward.

'You were injured, Mr Garp,' he explained. 'Your ship crashed into an asteroid, and you were the only survivor. Well, sort of.'

'Sort of?' yelled Ace. 'Sort of? What about my lugbuddies, GBh and Feek? Why isn't they bedded down here?'

'They died,' the man in the suit said simply. 'Snuffed it. Took the nightlight flight. Popped their clogs.'

'Jeez,' Ace said, his point drooping. 'Lay in on a lugger gently, why don'tcha.. he thought for a moment. 'So what's going on here? Why are you so interested in Garp the Barp? '

'You were very, very badly injured, Mr Garp,' said one of the doctors seriously. 'By rights you should have died, but we managed to save you,' he ended proudly, as around him the doctors shared self congratulatory smiles.

'Well thanks and stanks,' said Ace, sitting up, 'but I've gotta get some new lugbuddies and a new ship, and time waits for no barp, so seeya.'

As he tried to get up, the man in a suit pushed him back down.

'Not that easy, Garp' he snarled.

'Hey! What happened to the Mister?' Ace said.

'Listen to me, Garp,' the man continued, ignoring him. 'We have spent a lot of money rebuilding your puny body so that you can be a special agent for the Galactic Police. You will be known as Garp Activated by Reasonable Power One, or G.A.R.P One for short.'

'Me? A jeepie? You gotta be pulling my point!' Ace exclaimed, starting to laugh. 'Didn't you know that luggers hate creepy jeepies? I'd rather marry Mrs Freek that cosy up with you jobs.'

With that, he clumped the man in the suit right on the nose and leapt out of bed.

'Sorry to disappoint ya, doxys, but Garp the barp is on an outward bounder. Chug it!'
Marvelling at the reasonable power he now had in his legs, he disappeared with a whoop.

The man in the suit sat up groggily, and pulled out a communicator.

'This is weasel,' he said. 'G.A.R.P 1 is on the loose. I repeat, G.A.R.P 1 is on the loose...'

TO BE CONTINUED

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ECHIDNA


Ulysses Sweet: Maniac Activated by Computronic Hyperpower

The computer in MACH-U's head fed data into his brain...

++Agent: Ulysses Sweet
++Codename: MACH-U
++Mission: Infiltrate offshore enemy installation and plant explosives

Hey, the computer lady in my head is talking again! Hello, computer lady!

++Pleasantries irrelevant
++Prepare for aquatic infiltration

Ready when you are!

++Incorrect
++Your attire is inappropriate for this mission
++Your backpack contains a stealth wetsuit and scuba gear

OK, I'll wear the scuba mask and the big flippers but the mankini stays.

++At least remove the rubber duck strapped to your head

Bonkers T. McQuack? But he's my disguise!

++If you refuse to comply you will be subjected to Electro-shock

Bring it on, baby!

++Administering Electro-shock Level 1

Mmm, tingly. Give me another.

++Ineffective
++Progressing to Level 2

Hee hee, that tickles!

++Progressing to Level 3
++Warning: Voltage sufficient to reduce normal human to gibbering simpleton
++Predicted effect on Ulysses Sweet: Negligible
++Overriding safety protocols
++Administering

Gnnnnng... Hey, look at me go! I didn't know I could Riverdance!

++Progressing to Level 4
++Danger! Potentially fatal dose

That won't be necessary, computer lady. That last one burnt my ducky to a cinder. Along with most of my hair.

++Proceed with Phase 1

Geronimo!

++MACH-U entering water
++Enemy compound located 8km offshore
++Increasing hyperpower to 25%
++Estimated swim time: 6 minutes

Wheeee! I wish Mr McQuack could have been here, he would have loved this.

++Danger! Large aquatic mammal ahead
++Collision imminent
++Take evasive action

Where's the fun in that? Full power to the engines, computer lady!

++Hyperpower required to punch through whale's ribcage: 40%
++Impact in 3 - 2 - 1
++Passing through whale's internal organs
++Exiting whale

I just exploded the largest animal on earth! Now I just need a bottle-nosed dolphin to complete my I-Spy Book of the Ocean's Greatest Wonders. Speaking of which, is that dolphin over there looking at me funny?

++That is a porpoise

Close enough. I'm gonna rip his head off, the smug bastard.

++Present course of action contravenes mission protocol

Take this, you aquatic git!

++Cease pummelling

Alright, I'm almost done. I just need to sever... the spine... there!

++Approaching enemy base
++Exiting water
++Phase 1 complete
++Will you reconsider wearing camouflage suit for the remainder of your mission

I think we both know the answer to that question. Anyway, I have a new disguise now. With this new headgear, who would ever suspect I'm a ruthless assassin?

++Wearing the severed head of a porpoise as a hat is unlikely to persuade enemy guards you are here to provide humanitarian aid

Up yours, computer lady!

++If you continue to defy orders you will be subjected to lethal shock

Shut up or the brain gets it!

++You are pointing a gun at your own head
++Conclusion: You are mentally unfit for service
++Administering Level 5 Electro-shock in 3... 2...

I've had it with you, computer lady! You've got me angry in my skull!

BLAM


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JAQUSIE

Where the rain gets in...


'Merde!' shouted Little Tonga, as the bone needle he was picking through Bobs scalene, jagged his slug like thumb again. "Fugu Bebe!" he glared testily at the mountainous form sat beneath him.

The one thing Bob was head and shoulders above all his compatriots, was his unconditional loyalty. His unshakable devotion, to whatever was asked of him without question and his willingness to lay down his life in dutiful service for his gaffer. Traits he wasn't blessed with, were patience and a calmness, especially when it came to his head and shoulders, when the former needed re-stitching back to the latter.

Bob raised a shovel like hand, patting Tonga gently on the head. "Sorry, it gets itchy" he said fervently.

In the corner of the room, by a Silk Georgette fireplace, a peaked copy of THE TIMES slowly lowered, revealing dancing shadows over flinty eyes and the brow of an wizened, pockmarked nose, before it rose again steadily back to it's former upright.

A velvet silence hung over the room, save for the spits and hisses from the fire, as Tonga once again gracelessly pierced the needle through Bobs coriaceous skin, into his thyroid. "chum hoi!" squealed Tonga as he pulled the cat gut tight.

For a moment he paused, his thumb against the ivory bone beneath his nose, one eye squinted shut, before yanking fiercely at the twine, to the sound of an audible, crunching click, as Bobs head snapped back into place.

"Fortu!" whooped Tonga as he folded his arms, kicking his stubby legs in a splendid can-can.

"Have you two ladies quite finished your sewing circle?" enquired a stentorian voice from behind the newspaper, "because if you have, I've got an errand for you both". An alabaster bony hand struck out for a silver bottle which, after some gentle coaxing, disappeared behind the broadsheet.

"Just the grouting boss", Bob replied, "it can get awful chilly if I don't have me seals well greased".

The newspaper flapped, snapping to attention, an audible gastric ructus coming from behind it's inky pages. "Get a dab on then Tonga, maybe you can find some rouge for his boat-race while you're at it".

Dipping his fingers into a rusty tin of Brookers Olde Poisson pâté, Tonga scooped up the thick, black glutinous clag and stuck out his button tongue, before waving a gluey two-fingered salute at his tormentor. Bob hissed at him, flapping his timber like fingers, casting pointed shadows across the walnut dresser as the fusee wall clock chimed the hour.

Harry Absalom lowered his copy down to his lap, before fixing a furrowed brow at the little Pygmy bedecked in fur. "I'll give you the rods sunshine. Both of them will be red-hot and they'll go right where the sun don't shine, you little shitbag".

A toothy simper spread across Tonga's squat features, as his syrupy hand waved spryly at the Detective Inspector.

"Mutu Harry!" he grinned, tipping his diminutive bowler hat towards the veteran copper, "Mutu"!

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THE LEGENDARY SHARK

Old Dreads, New Hopes
.
Johnny ran, tears stinging his eyes, welts across his back hot and sore.
.
'Come back here, you snecking little mutie freak!' The voice came from behind, the speaker hidden by trees. Johnny knew there were six of them, older boys. Normal boys. With sticks and knives.
.
Tears in Johnny's weird white eyes made the forest shimmer and blur. He wiped a sleeve across his face, kept running; ignoring the slashes and snags of brambles and branches.
.
'Johnny Weird Eyes! Gonna cut those eyes right outta your head!' The voice was still behind Johnny but further away and to his left. He followed his instinct and turned right.
.
'Here! He's over here!'
.
Johnny glanced back and his stomach lurched. One of the teenagers, armed with a scatterpult, crashed out of the undergrowth. The calls of the other boys echoed out of the forest - from his left and his right. Small steel ball-bearings from the scatterpult slapped into his back like supersonic wasp stings. Johnny yelped and ran faster until, suddenly, he was out of the woods and into a clearing. In the middle stood a log cabin with a wisp of smoke trickling from its chimney. Johnny ran towards the cabin, shouting for help.
.
The teenagers, all six of them, achieved the clearing before Johnny got to the door. Ball-bearings slapped into his back and buttocks and rattled against the cabin.
.
'Got you now, freakshow!'
.
The door flew open even as Johnny got close.
.
'Incendiary,' a grizzled voice said. A gunshot smashed through Johnny's ears and a section of the forest erupted in flames. The teenagers ran, uninjured but terrified, back into the trees.
.
Johnny saw little of the old man in the gloomy doorway. He was tall, wore a very old, patched sleather one-piece and a wild, grey beard. The rest of his face was in shadow but his eyes flickered in the darkness. The telltale sign, Johnny knew, of a failing bionics system.
.
'Th... thank you, sir.'
.
'Welcome. Now git gone, kid. Ain't safe around me. Never was, never will be.'
.
Johnny paused, pains in his back stinging hotter. 'Sir, will you teach me to shoot like that?'
.
'How old are you, kid?'
.
'I'm five.'
.
'Hmph. Well, you're the right age but no, I ain't got time.' The old man pushed the door.
.
'Please, sir! There's six of them!'
.
The old man grunted. 'So?'
.
Johnny dropped his eyes, trying not to cry. 'I'm afraid, sir. They want to kill me.'
.
'Hmph.' The old man paused. 'You want teachin'? Okay, here's all I got, kid. Six of 'em come after you; go back at 'em like there's seven of you. Never give up, never give in, never back down an' never - ever - take no for an answer. Now get lost, kid, I ain't got all day.'
.
The door slammed shut. Johnny stood watching the fire burn out, pondering the old man's words. He rubbed his palms into his eyes, sniffed deeply and spat.
.
Ignoring his pain, the young mutant straightened up, set his jaw and marched back into the forest.

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EMP

THE AXE MAN COMETH

The rain beats against the window pane as two men sit over coffee and pie, an unusual, awkward silence between them.
"So tell me again how are money and rep are down?"
"There's a new guy in town, with a stiff rep,"
"I don't care if he's got a stiff....We're the best bullet monkeys in town!"
"This guy is positively old school, no guns!"
"What? No guns? At all?"
"None,"
"He some pyjama wearing ninja?"
"Axe apparently,"
"Funt that. I say we introduce him to the modern world!"
"They say he's bullet proof,"
"Good job I'm stacking these new armour busting shells,"
"Ah, they say,,,,"
"Hold that negative thought, Totem just put up that Larry the Lamb has just done it again. Got bout an hour before he gets pinched by the law, lets see caveman beat us to this!"

Twenty minutes and four tyres later the couple (we're not a couple in that sense), pull up outside a warehouse.
"See, I told you we would get Larry first!"
"You seen the side door amigo?"
The door in question had been folded back like the tin foil on a tv dinner, warped and twisted out of shape.
"So he used a forklift to break in. The guy isn't subtle."
" Can we just let this one go?"
"Our rep is on the line, no we can't let it go!"
The two men, the two best gunsharks in the city crept to the ruined door and peered inside.
Inside a massive, mountain of a deformed man swung an axe, cutting men in two while shrugging of gunshots.
"Well funt me,"
"Now can we go?" his partner hissed.
However quietly he thought he spoke was not quiet enough. The giant turned to stare at them.
"I have killed twelve men to get here and did not think it too many, do you want to add to the head count?"
"Oh, funt no! We just took a wrong turn, seen nothing, know nothing!"
"Thought you said we could take him!"
"Shaddup and get the car! We're still the best bullet monkeys, that guy's just medieval!"

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.
ZIPPOCREED

DREAMTIME

In the bleak landscape of Dreamtime, the beast spoke to him. With eyes aflame, it told of tall grasses, leaf-cloaked trees and faraway forests. Gentle shivered in the semi-darkness.

Following regulations, on waking Psi-Judge Gentle logged the nightmare with his superiors. The dream meant little to him however. He was not a Pre-Cog and saw nothing of substance in it. Gentle went down to cube six to decide if the old man should live or die.

The subject lay pancakes to a gurney. A heavy visor covered his eyes. Deep lines marked the lupine features. A Med-droid hummed as it fed him sedatives that muzzled his abilities but kept his thoughts and senses intact. Gentle checked his files on a command pad. The subject's talents defied classification. They ranged from telepathy to telekinesis to teleportation. He was off the scale. Initial genetic reports put him at over a thousand years old. It was little wonder that the mutants of The Cursed Earth proclaimed him a God.

The pad skipped to the judgment screen. It presented Gentle with three buttons. The first - green in colour - represented release. This was out of the question. The subject would be too much of a risk to the Big Meg, even if he did not walk its streets. The blue button was marked DETAIN. Could he be of use to the department, to the Law? Gentle focused his thoughts.

Ernest?

The thin, meagre lips parted.

Would you like to help us?

The stench of rank fur filled the cell. The beast of his dream appeared in one corner of the cube. Those red eyes pierced his mind, puncturing his thoughts.

'Free me.' The Wolf said. 'You have no right to keep me here. No law has been broken. Free me.'

Gentle laughed.The subject had chosen his own fate. He turned to the door.

'Your little tricks won't work in here Ernest.'

As the door closed behind him, Gentle stabbed a finger at the red button. EXECUTE. The sedatives coursing through the frail body would soon be replaced by a fast-acting toxin. Gentle stared down at the CASE CLOSED message. Doubts whispered but he was sure that he had hit the correct button. The subject would be dead before he reached his desk.

Only robotic attendants are allowed in psi-cubes. The human mind is so fragile, so gullible. It is easily susceptible to suggestion and hallucination. The Med-droid in cube six knew nothing of the mental projection in the corner or of its fading. The droid's work was almost done. The manacles snapped open. Metal claws removed the visor. Eyelids fluttered open to reveal glowing pupil-less orbs.

'Good news Mister Smith.' The Med-droid detached the I.V. 'Judge Gentle has said you can go home now.'

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Aaaaaaand.... that's yer lot. Get voting and thanks to all the pathetic wretches that didn't have anything better to do with their time than enter this, myself included...

BCB

[The Legendary Shark]

Good work all 'round makes this a hard decision but, in reverse order, my choices are:
.
3rd - Ulysses Sweet, M.A.C.H. 1, by Echidna.
.
2nd - Dream Time, by Zippo Creed.
.
1st - The Axe Man Cometh, by Emp.
.
Great stuff, everyone and thanks to BCB for organising it.

[Eamonn Clarke]

enjoyed this one, writing and reading.

1. Zippocreed - Dream Time. I'd love to have some more Wolfie Smith
2. Legendary Shark - Old Dreads, New Hopes. Good stuff
3. Cad City Blue - G.A.R.P.1 another old character that i love

Well done, all. And thanks as ever to BCB for keeping us going.

[Minkyboy]

Great as usual. Encouraging to have more to read through and enjoyed them all.

1. Lobo Baggins - The Informer. I thought the 2 characters and worlds merged most seamlessly here. Both true to original strips but working together.
2. Grugz - Woad you believe it? Made me laugh the loudest!
3. Echidna - Ulysses Sweet. Doesn't need art, I can see the story. Nailed him.

Thanks everyone.

[Lobo Baggins]

1. EAMONN1961, Getting to know you.

2. URSULA K, Suspect Package.

3. JAQUSIE, Where the rain gets in...

Good one - that was really tricky to decide!

[Jacqusie]

Been great to be a part of this & loved reading them all, really good stuff everyone!

here's my voting;


1st - TIM TAILZ - Cold Blooded

2nd - LOBO BAGGINS - The Informer

3rd - THE LEGENDARY SHARK - Old Dreads, New Hopes

cheers

Si

[Heath C Ackley]

In reverse order;

3) Ursula K - Suspect package

2) The Legendary Shark - Old Dreads, New Hopes

1) Jacqusie - Where the rain gets in

I really enjoyed this and will try it again. The hardest part was choosing the top three - you buggers are good, really good!

[Ursula K]

Here are my votes, in reverse order:

3) Eamonn1961 - Getting to Know You
2) TimTailz - Cold Blooded
1) The Legendary Shark - Old Dreads, New Hopes

ODNH just hit all the right buttons for me, that's why I picked it as the #1. It's the most obvious pairing and one that could fit into the comic without any alteration (we know SD takes place in Dredd's future, after all), which makes it a comfortable read. But it's also an easy read, and I mean that in a good way, because the writing is just so damn good.

[Echidna]

Really tough to choose this time, but here goes...

1st: ZippoCreed - Dreamtime
2nd: The Legendary Shark - Old Dreads, New Hopes
3rd: eamonn1961 - Getting to Know You

Great work, everyone!

[Bad City Blue]

1 - Eamonn - Ulyssess Sweet M.A.C.H

2 - Legendary Shark - Old Dreads, New Hopes

3 - Lobo Baggins - The Informer

[amines2058]

Cracking efforts all around but my votes go to:

3 - Eamonn1961

2 - The Legendary Shark

1 - Ursula K

Good work! I enjoyed reading them all.

[Echidna]

Ahem...

1 - Eamonn Echidna - Ulyssess Sweet M.A.C.H

Or did you mean Eamonn's Getting to Know You?

[Bad City Blue]

Ahem...

1 - Eamonn Echidna - Ulyssess Sweet M.A.C.H

Or did you mean Eamonn's Getting to Know You?

oops - meant yours