As was per her usual morning ritual, Echo Johnson gave the thick, plated uniform before her a long, hard stare from its place in her locker before she reached to pull it out.
How long had it been now? That question was easy enough to answer. Someone had mentioned in passing that it had been her fifth year as a street judge several weeks ago.
It felt like longer. Much, much longer.

She’d barely taken the time to reminisce – what was there to reminisce about? She’d joined the academy at five, just like everyone else. Managed to scrape by for 15 years, and then became a Cadet. Once again, she’d barely managed to pull it in, becoming a full-fledged street judge.
Still horribly average now at age 25 as she ever was, but none the less, she continued to persist.,

Judge Echo Johnson. She’d always felt detached from that name, although that was to be expected. For the most part, she’d grown up in some non-descript area. Been picked up, tested, and sent away to the academy. The name was assigned to her, just like everything else was really. Just a bunch of letters that formed words coherent enough to be used as an identifier - But then again, that’s all names really boil down to, isn't it?

With a slight jerk, she yanked the uniform free from the metal confines of the locker, stripping down to her standard issue underclothes before donning the rest of her uniform.
Johnson couldn’t deny that there was always something about a Judge’s uniform – the effect it had, on her and everyone else around her. It commanded respect – fear; there was rarely a person that didn’t react in the same, paranoid way that most would when they spotted the helmet and dark clothes. Echo wasn’t a large girl – stock standard really; 5 foot 6 inches, 130 pounds. Rounded face, pale skin, light blue eyes – though her hair, in an effort to give the illusion of being an individual, had been dyed a sloppy mix of blue and black. Not that it mattered, really – she wasn’t vain enough to forgo her helmet just to people could take notice of her hair.
The uniform set her apart from normal people – although if you were comparing a judge to a group of civilians, you may as well be comparing an apple to a bunch of grapes.

Her helmet…she shifted slightly, and pulled it onto her lap.
While the rest of her uniform had been replaced several times over the years, she’d kept a hold of the same helmet. It was scratched and dirty with nicks dotting the carbon black and crimson. Towards the back, her fingers found a deeper crevice.
She remembered where that one was from, of course. Her mouth curled downwards in a frown.
Unlike a lot of Judges, she’d managed to keep the same partner from when she shifted ranks from cadet.

Well, until about 14 months ago.
She swallowed hard, flipping the helmet around and pushing it down roughly onto her head.
Her locker door was slammed shut, and her footsteps thudded heavily against the ground as she headed out.

“Mader Jella!” shouted a tall man, somewhere in his mid-20s. Jella looked up from the book she was reading in her reclining chair. She smacked her lips, slightly annoyed at the disturbance.

“What, Don?” she responded, her enunciation in stark contrast with the younger mans. The young man could tell her annoyance and bit his lip nervously; he didn’t have news she would exactly want to hear.

“Um…. Well… The Legion has been spotted a sector over. Three gangs have dropped off the face of Mega City One.” Don blinked nervously as Jella silently took in the news. Her tongue licked her teeth and Don couldn’t help but concentrate on the moving bulge it created. It didn’t seem like it would be a good thing. He gulped.

“Brother Don,” she stated, taking careful precaution with each syllable. “I do not think it is time yet to worry about a gang that has popped up overnight. There will be time enough when they move closer, but they would not dare pick on someone of our size yet. The sizes of the gangs they have annihilated are small, puny in comparison to our numbers. We are still too much of a…big fish for this shark.” She smiled tautly at Don and went back to her book, a silent dismissal of the man. While she read, she thought of the problem in more detail. In fact, she was more worried about this rising gang, the Legion, than she had portrayed but whatever she said to Don would get out to the entire Family, and whatever they said would eventually get back to the Legion.

The Family was a slight misdemeanor in the way of names, because none of the gang was actually blood related, but it is what they were. They started long ago as a trio of orphans, just her, Mastus, and Ordio, forced to stick together for survive or die at the hands of another gang. As the years passed, the three collected more and more numbers, seeing as a city as crime-filled as Mega City One was ripe with orphans for the picking. They claimed to be the most peaceful of the gangs, but in reality they were just as bloodthirsty and power hungry as the rest, if not more. Each member of the Family knew which gang had killed their parents, or Judge, and therefore the Family was literally enemies with everybody, which led to a good amount of bloodshed.

The original trio of course sat at the head of the gang. They were known to their youngers as Father Mastus, Mother Jella, and Father Ordio. Mastus was the oldest of the three, or at least the greyest, and held the most authority over the new recruits of the Family. Accordingly, he arranged the screening and bringing in of any new members. Mother Jella was the youngest, but also the smartest of the three and usually dealt with any interactions between other gangs or, in worse case scenarios, Judges. She had a way with words that could convince pretty much anyone to believe her. It was speculated that this was some kind of mutation, but no one was sure. Father Ordio was in charge of the actual fighting, seeing as he was the most adept at a gun (or he was once upon a time, a young recruit name Brutus was getting to his level pretty fast).

Jella smiled, this time in true amusement. Brutus was actually what she needed.

Fourteen months and nine days since he last served as a Judge in Metropolis City One. Fourteen months and nine days since he’d dispensed the law, pacified the violence and protected the weak. Fourteen months and nine days since he’d lived.

He’d been so disconnected from his purpose in life, it had been a crushing weight; Judge Tybor had only lived for being a servant of the law. To be raised from such a young age commanded the life of the eventual judges albeit for some the life of solitude and violence comes easier. The simple fact was when he wasn’t serving as a Judge, he was useless in life. Duty and sacrified had compiled his calling, somehow his heart still clung to the vaunted values and beliefs instilled in him during his cadetship. Fifteen years of training didn’t abandon you easily but he’d been rocked thoroughly to his core but when he’d been lost to the tides of darkness that threatened his heart, those values had been his anchor. They’d been what kept him living, kept him fighting in order to return one day as a judge albeit he may never again be the judge he once was.

The harrowing thoughts and memories coursed through his mind as he sat at the end of his bed, set in a grey, spartan room that had a noticeable scarcity of anything portraying life or love. This room, once his fortress of serenity had been converted into his prison after his recovery and rehabilitation. Despite all the mental damage that had been done, the physical scarring remained far, far worse. Not even the most modern of medical procedures had been able to easily fix the mutilated body of the man, at least not without adapting synthetic pieces into the body. All of that seemed a little extravagant for Tybor; besides the scars were a symbol of his pride and servitude to the duty of justice.

Starburst patches of ragged, scarred skin jutted over his stomach and lower back, if one took the time to count they’d find thirteen blotches in total, all of a rather similar size and dimension. That had been when an assault rifle wielding thug had nearly cut him in two with a burst of armour-piercing bullets which shredded his Judge uniform like paper. Not content with filling his stomach with lead; the thugs had continued onward to put bullets in his legs and arms, mainly because their aims had been faltered by the bullets entering their brains. He mainly kept his scars away, society often required a modicum of privacy involving a shirt; but they’d still seen a man tortured by the whims of the world.

His head was quite noticeably scar-free, a pleasant, almost non-descript face jutted out, a moderate nose, plain ears but dead, grey eyes viewed the world with the manner of a broken soul. Standing up, he couldn’t help but look at himself in the mirror, once again tracing a finger over the contusions in his skin; he was still not used to such a damaged body. He stood at 5’9, with a close cropped patch of brown hair and a medium-set build that once again established the air of averageness about the man; at least until the helmet went on.

He slowly and laboriously donned his Judge’s armour, wincing slightly and readjusting as the once-familiar armour chafed and strained in areas where his body had been warped. Eventually he clambered into a position where he felt comfortable but never as safe as he’d once felt. All that remained was the famous judge’s helm and the golden badge, enscribed with ‘Tybor’ and still bearing the bullet hole nick in the bottom of it; he’d refused to have it repaired as it would always remind him to never go back into the tactical response division. He got caught looking in the reflective black visage of the mask and a torrent of memories came flooding out.

Before he’d been a street Judge he’d been part of the infamous tactical response division, it was mainly composed of the less stable Judges. They act like cowboys and when they went in, they went in hard. They were deployed into the real shitfights, anywhere judges had been pinned down or there were too many armed men were stationed for a normal team. They lived life dangerously and as such recorded the highest casualty-to-mission rating of all the departments, taking out that prize by some margin too. Tybor had once been a reckless member of that division some ten years ago, before he saw the damage it was doing to his life and mind. He became a Street Judge, partnered up with an inexperienced Judge Johnson they’d patrolled the streets and dispensed justice for the better part of 4 years.

It’d been relatively cosy compared to his past but it was far easier to enjoy; his team wasn’t made up of psychopaths and trigger-happy nutcases and he dispensed far more justice this way. But they’d asked him for one last favour; come back for one mission to help the assault division out. There had been something in the water and they were down a few men, they even told him to bring his partner. A few pulled strings in the hierarchy cancelled that requisition; Judge Johnson was a good street judge but a day on the assault division would have broken her. He’d never let this on, he’d always felt protective of her from their early days and she had a solid career ahead of her.

He’d gone back into that insanity and came out with thirteen slugs in his stomach and four in his arms. Five months of hospital stay, four months of rehabilitation and four months to try and get himself back into the right condition to be a Judge. This lead him to be 32 and basically starting over again as a judge; after 14 months being couped up he’d lost his senses, his instinct and quite possibly his skills as a judge. He snapped himself out of the daze, attaching his badge and carefully lowered the half-face helmet down as he slipped into being a judge once again.

Sin

The North-West Hab Zone, containing sectors 301-305, a small isolated land island located in Southern Ontario, surrounded by wasteland, and only accessible through the megway connecting to Megnorth. An immaterial existence, this land mass was nearly forgotten by all of Mega City One and it’s occupants. Even the Judges stationed here were misfits, Judges that couldn't cut it in the “real” world, and was instead stationed to babysit. Or so it seemed. They say the squeaky wheel gets the grease, but it’s really the quiet ones that required the most amount of attention. Turf war raged on even here, though maybe not on such large scales as the rest of the city. Clans and gangs clambered over each other to claim the most notorious, or the most bloodthirsty, cruel, or all those things. Power meant survival, and when you’re surrounded by wasteland and a bridge, there are less places to hide for the weak.

Sin grew up in The Pit, or sector 301 to the more politically correct, and he’d seen and done things even his twisted mind was not proud of. Sin was not his birth name, what parents in their right mind would give their child such a name? But Sin was what he’d become, after all crime rates were high in The Pit, and Sin was a much more sinister sounding name than Simon. Sin left home at a young age, none of that sappy orphan bullshit, he was simply tired of living like a rat, his parents hiding in their little block, never causing problems, never rising above dirt. He started small, hiding in the shadows, just watching and learning. He stole to feed himself, but he was never greedy or stupid and only took what he needed. He’d also built up a network slowly through other street rats, until slowly he’d built himself a small clan of kids just like him; kids filled with anger but are too small or smart to do anything stupid.

Brains do make up for a lot of things in the human world, and before long Sin had managed to carve out a little spot for himself in the less chaotic sectors of the Hab Zone. He was his own little clan leader, his friends and associates dabbled mostly in espionage and information dealing for the other, more hot headed and muscle heavy gangs. This gave them access to wealth previously unimaginable to Sin and his gang, but instead of flashy cars and fancy leather jackets with their “gang sign” plastered across the back, Sin simply took the money and expanded, almost too rapidly, through all the sectors on his little island, until there was no block where he could not see. Such irony, Sin was everywhere.

That’s when he met her, a hard woman, one that moved with grace and incredible intelligence. She was one of the street judges stationed here in North-West Hab Zone. Rumour has it only the “underperforming” Judges were sent here, but that’s not entirely true. Judges that were under suspicion were also sent here, to be watched over by none other than Dredd himself. They were not underperforming, if anything most of them were incredibly cunning. This was why Sin never named his clan, when you're nameless, you're less of a threat.

Sin ruled in the shadows of North-West Hab Zone for years, now his networks were like spider webs across this tiny piece of oasis surrounded by radiation, and no one could come into any of his five sectors without him knowing. He wanted to expand, into Megnorth, into all of Mega City One, but he needed muscle, and lots of it. He then did not know that within that year he’d be making the most unlikely alliance of his young but cruel life.

Judge Verra Black

The Judge’s life was a hard one, full of discipline, danger, and a constant paranoia. Being a Tech Judge though, was a completely different story. The deadlines, constant updates, paperwork, all the bullshit that came with being in a position where equipment for the most Elite Law Enforcement was created. Verra Black was one of these, and she was quite good at it. She worked hard for the hall of Justice and even came up with some of the upgrades for the Judge’s standard issue Law Giver. This was all to perfect for Judge Black, she gave every day her all in the Tech Chambers of the Hall of Justice constantly working to try and make things better, and better. This would be short lived though as progress with the weapons was becoming harder for her to complete. Underperforming was not something that was well accepted even in the Tech side.

Becoming a Street Judge had been the last thing that Verra had wanted, when they told her of their plans to move her to the Pit a seed of betrayal was planted in her mind. How could she a Tech Judge suddenly become a street Judge sent to a place where Judges went when they were either dirty or not working hard enough. She became angry with her Superiors most of all Dredd who seemed to have no sympathy when he briefed her on the sector. She went through the motions taking down criminals and cracking down on drugs. It was during this time that she came across a man named Davin who had flunked out of the Hall of Justice. She talked to him for some time and found that he to had been wronged, a place that claimed to be Just was completely otherwise.

She started to spend too much time with Davin, and ended up meeting with others who had flunked out of the Hall. She slowly started rounding up these men and women who for some reason or another had not become what they had trained their entire childhoods to be. At the same time she slowly drifted away from the Family that had been the Judges that had scorned her so. One day she finally just disappeared no one could find her. She had left her uniform and bike behind though her weapons had gone with her. Verra had decided to try and change things in Mega City 1, she was going to take it over and bring true justice to the land.

She brought these disenfranchised men and women together and began to take over block after block with their fearsome determination. This left plenty of bodies behind as no gangs would join her ruthless onslaught for power except those who were forced to after all their comrades were killed. She was feeling successful, but there was something missing their group was still far to small to take over the city she needed a way to expand not just conquer. That was when she met Sin… That man’s mind was a force of nature she had never met someone who could plan things out as well as Sin. The way he took control of sectors was almost like magic. She decided at the request of Sin to meet with him, and they both came out of the meet with a deeper understanding of each other and a new Alliance. The Legion was born.

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The assault rifle thumped heavily against Ray’s hip. The young man checked the safety on the thing for the hundredth time and made sure it was on, the last thing he wanted was to lose a leg to his own gun. This was going to be his first real fight, after Sin had joined up with the ex Judge Ray and his crew of ten were drafted into boot camp, to be trained in the art of combat. Ray had objected at first, after all he’d only signed up with Sin because he was promised no combat, only information gathering, Ray was no hero and he never pretended to be. The first week was Hell with a capital H, he hated everything from the physical drills to those cold, deadly eyes that looked down on him everyday with contempt. The “thug” that trained them was no Judge, but he’d only flunked Judge school due to an “unstable state of mind” to distribute sound Judgement. That had pissed the fucker off, and he took his years of pent up aggression out on his trainees.

What surprised Ray was how easily he’d picked up the training once he decided to stop fighting against it. He became faster, stronger, more observant to his surroundings. His mentor’s cruel yet efficient training had taught him how to deal with pain and anger and most importantly, fear. Fear was what’s gnawing at him now, instead of panicking and shitting his own pants, Ray clenched his fist and took several deep breaths, just enough to calm his nerves and chase away the ghost of his former self from behind those smoky grey eyes. Ray was ready.

He made eye contact with the five guys standing behind him, then across the hallway and nodded at a hidden figure that he knew was Larson. Larson was one of the original men that had come with Verra into their territory, he was a man of little words but big actions, and he was the one Verra had put in charge along with Ray (Sin felt he was ready to lead) on this little mop up job.

The Jackals were a rising threat, not quite big enough to take over a whole block but close. Sin had himself gone to speak with the leader, Alpha, about joining forces. Alpha was over confident that his men did not need the protection of this Legion. Maybe it was ignorance, or over confidence, but the stupid pup had inadvertently marked the deaths of himself and his pack. it wasn't difficult finding the Jackals’ head quarters, and now they have 20 guys covering the only two entrances into the block they were all holed up in.

As Sin’s intel had promised, the Jackal’s inner hideout was an entire floor of a block, the front door that led to it’s common area was never closed due to either confidence or stupidity. The common area was where most of the gang members hung out, drug use and abuse was not uncommon here, and every gang banger had armed himself or herself to the teeth with whatever they could find or barter or rob.

Ray saw the nod from the man in the shadow and pulled out a stun grenade from his belt, working for an ex Tek Judge did have its perks after all. He gave the non-verbal signal to get ready, then threw the grenade through an open door way, Larson’s own following directly after his. The bang and bright flash was more deadly than the actual explosion, but then again stun grenades were never meant to kill. Larson gave the order to move in, and 15 silent figures moved steadily through the open door way into a roomful of half stunned thugs. Confused screams started almost before the gun shots had gone off, though no one from the Legion even muttered a grunt, precision shooting was their priority, intimidation was secondary.

The young man had counted around 25 figures as he stepped through the chaos of bullets and shouting, his own rifle fired in bursts that were well aimed and calculated, making each bullet count. The stun grenades had done its job, it made at least half of the Jackals blind as newborn puppies and easy picking. The other half, less stunned, was putting up a hasty and useless defence, pushing over couches and furniture as cover.

The last of the gun shots rang out and echoed eerily as the dying drew their last breaths. Ray looked about and checked on each of their men, all 15 accounted for. The carnage they’d done to the room was devastating, and 23 total bodies were counted as the group advanced through to the next room slowly and cautiously. Ray was the last to clear out of the room, checking their rear to make sure no one jumped on them from behind.

The sounds of the gunfight were not missed or ignored by the residents of the block, and several anonymous calls were made to the Judges for investigation. Ray’s earpiece bleeped just once before a voice came through. “Judges on their way, two of them.” Click. Shit. Ray gripped his rifle just a bit tighter and pushed on with his group. Everyone would have gotten that message, and with Larson leading the charge hopefully they’d be out of here before the Judges showed up.

Sixteen months, it had been sixteen months now, and it was all about to come to an end. Josephine glanced around the bar, it really was a nice place, even the ilk that it catered to felt the need to dress up before coming here. Not a single person in the place would look out of place at a gala, of course Josephine was no exception, she looked over her dress a blue sequined evening gown that would have cost her half a year's salary, and the stilettos on her feet the other half, her pink hair had been styled almost like Jessica Rabbit, going down to her back. She let a deep sigh cross her deep red stained lips, as she took a seat at the bar atop a padded stool, crossing her legs as the bartender made his way towards her. This, she was gonna miss this, the clothes, the hair, the lifestyle... The drugs, the alcohol, the people. She immediately ended that line of thought, thinking like that was a quick road to an early retirement.

She glanced up at the bartender, he was ridiculously handsome, with a smile that could disarm a rampaging war-droid. "The usual." she spoke absent-mindedly, and he was off immediately to concoct her drink. One last drink before she ended it. It was only moments before he came back with a Piña colada adorned with a mini umbrella, and inside half of a coconut. She was too lost in her contempletion about this coming to an end that she didn't hear him talking to her until she heard her 'Name' "...Alice?" She immediately brought her eyes to bear upon him, "What was that?". "I was just asking if you're alright Alice, you look out of it tonight." he replied. Josephine looked down at her drink and back to him, grabbing it and taking a sip as she did so. "I'm fine, just... Been under the weather lately. You should probably stay at a distance, I'd hate to see your pretty little ass sick." She smiled at him and took another sip of her drink before continuing. "As a matter of fact, why don't you just take the night off? No point in risking it right?" She sincerely hoped he'd leave, he didn't need to get arrested, sure he'd broken the law, but he was a nice guy. "You know my head would be on a spike if I did that, I'll just take my chances." Josephine finished her drink and rose from the stool "Welp, don't blame me then..."

Joe made her way to a booth in the corner of the bar, she pressed a button on the side of her watch, and spoke. "They're all here, I'm ready on your mark." There was a moment of silence before she heard the reply in her ear, the deep voice of Judge Monty. "Alright, ten seconds..." There was no turning back now "Nine" She grasped the pistol on her thigh, and unholstered it through the fabric of her dress. "Eight" She slid it across her skin until it was at the edge of her seat. "Seven" She took a moment to feel and make sure the safety was on, and pushed it over the edge. "Six" The sound of it hitting the wooden floor was drowned out by the band on the stage at the front of the bar. "Five" She slinked down and grabbed it from the floor with her opposite hand. "Four" Setting it on the seat to the side of her that wasn't visible to anyone she clicked the safety off. "Three" She started examining the bar for any signs that someone knew what was about to happen. "Two" There was nothing, people dancing, chatting, drinking, The same as she had done for sixteen months. "One" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

*BOOM* The sounds of doors being crashed open roared, within a second there was already four judges in the building having come from both entrances. If things had gone as planned, there was two more backstage as well. "YOU ARE ALL UNDER ARREST, SURRENDER AT ONCE." Judge Monty's voice boomed over the now quieted din of the bar. Noone seemed to be putting up a fight, there was no point, the Hall of Justice doesn't orchestrate a bust like this without having it's bases covered. Josephine left her gun at her seat, and raised her hands to surrender, appearances were important, they wanted it to seem like she had been arrested just like anyone else, so she could go undercover again if need be, though after this, she didn't think she could handle it again. It took awhile before the arrests rolled around to her, Judge Monty had made sure to be the one to do it. "Stand up and put your hands behind your back." She did as she was told, at 6'6" he towered above her, even in four inch heels, he was still probably a foot taller than her. Of course that fact that she didn't look like a judge had been a significant part of why she was doing this. As he cuffed her, he leaned over her shoulder and whispered into her ear. "Good Job".

She smiled as she reminisced on that moment. now she was about to go back to the streets, at least until she was told to infiltrate some new gang or cozy up to some drug-lord. After trying so hard to get out of being on the street to get into undercover work, she found herself almost wanting it, it was simpler, you didn't have to know about the criminals, get to know them, even sometimes like them. Maybe she just wasn't cut out for being a Judge at all? Nah, that couldn't be it, she quickly dismissed the notion as she put on the helmet. Thousand had washed out during Academy, but not her. That meant something, definitely she reassured herself as she checked her pads from her shin to her shoulders, and tapped everything on her belt to make sure it was there. It had been awhile since she had to gear up, so she was a bit rusty, had to make sure she had gotten everything in the right place, and nothing was gonna fall off.

Penny leaned back in her vintage La-Z-boy recliner, a large orange tabby sprawled across her lap rather obscuring her mid torso from view. Her lip curled up on the right as she regarded the trio of tattooed toughs on the other side of her desk. It was a very spartan office, with bare walls and a green lamp hanging from the ceiling that cast an absinthe-worthy pallor to the faces of the four people in the room. There were no windows, and only two doors: one on the right, and one on the left.

"You see boys, piss poor planning makes piss poor performance, as my daddy used to say. And what gets pissed on the most among you up & comers? Logistics. You can make the drugs, you can find the drugs, you can shoot each other over turf, but do you know how to get your shit from Peach Trees to, say, Beacon Hill without catching the eye of Judges, let alone rivals who will shoot you as quickly to take your stash? Nope." She nonchalantly scratched the purring cat behind the ears.

"What you need is a third party. Smugglers. Escrow. UP fucking S, if you will. We give you that, for a percentage. We operate a sophisticated network of discrete delivery men and women, whom in turn operate on a need to know basis. We have a 90% success rate, pending the occasional Judge. How many of your operations have gone without a hitch?" She regarded the leader of the trio squarely, and noticed a twitch in the brow that suggested memory of a recent failure. One of his buddies glanced away for a moment.

"Uh-huh..." she continued, pushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, "Look, for a fifteen percent cut, no more than you'd pay in taxes for a legit business operation, you can greatly increase your frequency of successful deliveries of goods and of funds. Up it to an agreement for a twenty percent cut and we'll insure your transaction entirely."

"Now, if you would like to engage in business, I will have you continue with my associate. If not, you may leave. Either way, you'll leave the same way you came in: blindfolded and transported. We'll take you back to that nice little park you started at. Peachy keen and none the worse for wear."

"We're in," the leader of the trio said gruffly. "Twenty percent. We've got slo-mo and - "

"Ah ah ah, not with me, darlin. With my sales associate. Think of me as... reception. I'll let The Captain know you're happy to work with us; he'll be terribly pleased.Through that door, to the left now. Ta ta." Penny raised her hand and gave a languid wiggle of her fingers as she looked down to the tablet she was reading on her desk. The toughs looked to one another, then shrugged and proceeded towards the door to the left as she tapped out a message on her tablet. As the door swung shut behind them in the next room, a spray of gas came from the ceiling over the toughs, knocking them out, and two of Penny's Pie Rats came to collect them and move them to another location to continue the business.

"...Just another day at the office, eh Captain?..." Penny mumbled, leaning down to snuggle her face against the cat's big head. The Captain kneaded his paws on her thigh contentedly.

Davin

Sector 300 was the same as anywhere else in Megacity One, crime poverty trash in the streets. It was everywhere like some rampant disease. No one was trying to make it better, only make the problem worse. Davin on the other hand believe in Judge Verra Black, and Sin. They would bring order and a common soul to the city by having everyone become one and having a voice. No more would they be ruled over a tyrannical government with a force of Murderers with advanced training, and weapons called Judges. Slowly and in a very peaceful manner Davin entered the block where the Family called home. He had gained enough information on the streets to slowly find his way to their place. It wasn’t that hard when a gang was controlling a good bit of space and trying to gain more. Slowly he looked around at all the civilians that were around, they would be so much collateral damage if things went awry, and so would he. Davin didn’t even carry a weapon with him as he headed up some stairs, he grabbed a kid running by and stared down at them. “Tell the parents soldier of the legion is here to see them.” He let the kid go. The kid ran off to go tell the Mother and Fathers of the family exactly what Davin had said.

With a glance around Davin slowly walked over to a bench and sat down rubbing his hands together as he stared across the block at the doorway that lead into the building. With a click of his tongue he started to spin a switch blade between his fingers the blade flicking in and out of it’s handle clicking.

Larson

The news of Judges being on the way wasn’t a surprised in fact it was a small part of the plan that Verra had made. They had to make their presence better known. IF they showed their strength by taking out a couple of Judges publicly everyone would know their name. Larson grinned at the news and moved the gangsters he had with him into the next room. This time he had them charge straight in, there was no reason for a flashbang this time, the rest of the Jackals would be ready for such a thing. Instead as Larson lead the charge into the room he opened up with a shotgun blasting away his arm pulling back the pump loading new shells and firing again. The men behind him opened up fire as well the Jackals didn’t stand a chance they were no match for these men and women who had been trained like a Judge. Bullets flew through the air from both sides, but only one side was actually hitting anything. Jackals went down in gouts of blood and gore from the powerful rounds blasting through their bodies.

Larson stopped firing as did everyone else and he slowly looked around at all the bodies on the floor and counted them. He saw a familiar face as well, the Jackal’s boss lay with a spray of pellets across his skull have of his face torn off. “Good work! They’re all dead.” Stepping over the bodies and out the door he gave orders as he walked. “Alright guys! Everyone set up behind cover near the entrance to the block! We’ll give those Judges what for. Time to show this city what the Legion is Made of.” He gave orders as they entered the commons area of the block pointing here and there to stands and small kiosks where they kicked people out of. Very quickly the commons area became empty except for the Legion members hidden by anything that could stop a bullet

The Judges stopped outside of the building that was the block there had been a report of shootings at. Both of them readied their lawmakers the normal grim look of a Judge plastered on their faces beneath their helmets. As they entered the block the knew instantly that something was wrong, They moved towards cover as quick as they could, but they were met with several assault rifles pointing right at them that began firing large swaths of automatic rounds. All around them within seconds more weapons opened up fire. It was a death trap, no way to escape. The bullets tore through their armor as multiple rounds impacted their bodies. They fired back and killed two of the gun men, but the storm of bullets was just to much for the two Judges and they went to their knees before hitting the ground with thuds. Pools of blood surrounded the bodies of the now deceased officers of Justice.

Larson stepped out from behind his cover and walked over yanking off the Judge’s helmets and gave them a cous de gras putting a bullet into each man’s forehead. “Alright guys… let’s head out.” He slowly lead the remaining living Legion members from the block each of them stepping over the bodies of the judges each adding a extra bullet to each body. They climbed into a black truck and it sped off down the street. As the civilians of the block filtered back into the commons area calls were going off like crazy to the Hall of Justice reporting the death of the two Judges.

The Hall of Justice

Several Judges sat around the table each of them wearing the uniform of the council. They all seemed slightly distraught. “A killing of two judges on purpose? And our Judges stood no chance against these people who seemed to know our very tactics! We have to do something about this. “ One woman who seemed like she was only months away from taking the walk stood up. “I have already taken care of it. I have requested Dredd put together a team to investigate this matter. This Legion, and they will report to him.” The council all nodded in agreement on this subject.

Dredd

Dredd stood outside the hall of Justice his helmet fit tightly around his head and his fingers tapping across the console of his bike. He grunted and sent out messages to several Judges he had picked out purely for reasons of seeing if they could make something of themselves. “Judges Johnson, Stone, Sage, and Tybor report to Asbury block, Sector 301. There has been a turf war and two murdered Judges. You three have been handpicked to investigate and take care of this situation. This case is Priority One over any other Cases you have currently. “ He sent off the message and stared up across the buildings in front of him and slowly shook his head. There was something wrong about this, but he believed these three he had picked would be able to handle it.

Echo had been just about to lay claim to a theft in progress when she’d received the message.
She didn't know what made her mouth curl downwards more – the fact that she was required to go to Sector 301, or the fact that it was Dredd himself that had sent them there.
The man was a legend, and regardless of their stance on him, nobody could deny that.

She ran through the names he’d listed alongside hers. Sage and Stone…the names didn't ring any bells, although she didn't take any extra precautions when it came to memorizing the names of other judges so it wasn't a real surprise.
Tybor… Echo’s frown ran deeper. Could be a different Tybor – or it could be a mistake.
No. She took back that thought immediately as though there were actually some chance that he may have heard her thoughts. Dredd didn't make mistakes.

Swallowing hard, Echo headed off in the direction of the Asbury block of Section 301, dodging several cars as she pulled onto a road.
It’d been 14 months since she’d heard anything about her old partner – since they’d also been partners, consequently. He been transferred – that was all that she knew, or was supposed to know. Anything other than that wasn't any of her concern, apparently.
Not for a lack of trying, oddly enough. Due to her lack of interest in trying to make more contact with others than necessary, Echo lacked any form on network when it came to other judges. Nobody could tell her anything that wasn't either related to her work or outside her access.
So, she’d just accepted it and ignored the various feelings of detachment and resentment.

For a reason she was finding particularly difficult to place, there was a slight feeling of…hostility. Thinking about her ex-partner was leaving a bitter taste in her mouth and the desire to pretend her communicator was broken and head off to her solo bust anyway.
Well, she may have done that, if it weren't Dredd that had sent out the call.
It would be easy enough for her to ignore it, however, although locating the source of the feeling took a bit more than that.
For whatever reason, Echo had thought of herself and Eran Tybor as …well, friends. He’d been assigned to her when she was just a cadet, and been her partner after that as well. They’d worked well together – she figured you don’t spend all that time with a person and not feel some kind of attachment.
Mentor. Friend. Partner. And then one day he was gone.
Maybe she felt like she was owed and explanation – maybe not, but it still didn't bode well with her to discover that their relationship only existed on a professional level.

None the less, she made her way to Sector 301, barely fazed as she avoided a truck that had swerved dangerously. Normally she would have stopped them, handed out a traffic violation along with some potential time in the Block, and then been on her way.
She barely took notice of the world zooming around her – Echo had been on the job that long that even the more exciting parts had been ingrained to the point that she didn't need to think about it anymore. Swerving at high speeds through traffic. Counting out the perps and then shooting them all systematically. Even the interrogations, if they’d needed to be done. Punch, question, throw, threaten, and repeat until they spilled.

It wasn't until Echo was already in the 300 sector that she noticed the change of scenery.
There’d only been a few times that Judge Johnson had been called out here. And it’d been the sole reason why she’d usually avoided it.
There was no denying that Megacity-One and its occupants were poverty-stricken. Although, Echo had to wonder at what point does the most common standard of living still equate to poverty?
None the less, unemployment, violence and crime ran rampant in most parts of the city. Aside from the extremely rich and essentially non-existent middle class, everyone seemed to be fighting to survive.
But this – Echo noted – the 300 sector…it was so much worse than that.
She’d forgotten how much farther it could go south.

Judge Johnson pulled up outside of Asbury Block, standing beside her bike with a hardened frown as she waited for the other three judges to arrive.

Eran Tybor didn’t quite know what he was doing wrong; everytime there was a crime reported, he’d respond to the report but so far five out of five times he’d arrived second. The victims had been interviewed, the criminals sentenced. He’d pulled over off the road, ceased his endless meandering cruise through the district and sat motionless, distractedly staring at the Lawmaker in his hand. His mind couldn’t help but question himself; he found himself ever drifting close to the murky miasma of doubt. Doubt was the archenemy of a Judge, one cannot doubt himself and still enforce the Law. Had he lost his touch? Had his stay, as a shrivelled husk of the man he once was, destroyed over a decade of experience and a further two decades of training?

No, not his training, he silently corrected himself; he felt law a raw recruit again, someone who’d just been given his badge and sidearm. There was one vital component missing from that system though; he had no enthusiasm, no drive to be out here again. He’d been shot to pieces once and been told he was likely to never Judge again. Then after a festering infection had wracked his body for three months which doubled his hospital stay he’d been offered every desk job under the sun for the Hall of Justice. One small, seemingly inconsequential fact had dragged him back from the very abyss of despair and renewed his purpose to be a judge again.

A wily old instructor had suggested that he sit in on a few of his lessons; they were training 8 year olds kids, so full of life, joy, and exuberance. He’d marvelled at their passion, been invigorated by their youth; soon he began to rebuild his body and passed his retrials. Only now there was a problem; he had achieved his goal. He was a judge now so what was his purpose? Tybor used to think duty and justice was his calling but he could hardly be sure anyway. For now he sat under the bridge of a freeway, barely noticing the sound of the cars screaming past as his consciousness wandered the long, lonely groves of his mind.

He was broken out of his sombre trance by the beep of his communicator alerting him to the arrival of a new urgent message; such an alert caused a frown to erupt across his face. Surely there’d be better people to send an urgent request to then a Judge just coming off a 14 month recovery. His curiosity got the better of his concern as he jammed the button down and he heard the unmistakeable voice of Judge Dredd booming out of the speaker; even if there wasn’t a caller ID every Judge recognised this iconic voice. He was a figure of legendary status and here he was being personally requested.

It would’ve been too easy to get caught up in the awe of the moment, overconfident even at the hint of Dredd needing their help but that was in itself an oxymoron. If Dredd wanted you, it meant it was bad. Without hesitating to ponder the matter anymore he clambered back onto his bike and sped off, noting how the civilians on the road manoeuvred out of the way of a speeding Judge. They knew to respect, obey and assist however they could, less they end up on the wrong saw of the Law, a truly harsh mistress in Mega-City One.

Tybor cast his mind back, trying to dig up the shreds of knowledge he had in his mind; they were chaotically stored and difficult to grasp but he soon began to remember what he knew of Sector 301. It was an absolute hellhole, one of the most backwater, crime infested and undesirable places to live in all of Mega-City One. He’d have to keep his wits about him and his trigger finger ready because some of the local gangs just might not be able to resist taking a shot or two at a judge.

After a few tense moments gliding through the outskirts of the sector he found himself nearer and nearer to Asbury Tower. There was clear evidence that the people were even more uneasy here; even the presence of a judge made them more fearful. This could not be a good omen; they didn’t appear to be criminals and for them to fear the presence of a judge meant whichever gang ran this block didn’t want judges snooping around. He pulled around the final corner and noticed a Judge had already arrived, by the body shape the Judge appeared to be female; even a close body match to his old partner – Johnson, surely not. He’d heard Judge Johnson over the call but it was a common designation so he didn’t think that much of it. Yet sitting here now, he could almost sense the other half of his old partnership sitting across from him even with her being around a hundred metres away.

He’d never been visited from her when he’d been interred in hospital, he assumed that she either hadn’t been told for some obscure bureaucratic reason or she simply hadn’t cared. He wasn’t sure which held more truth; even if he cared to discover because the truth had rarely proved to be a comfort in his experience. He pulled up next to her, setting his bike down alongside of her and stepped off warily, still keeping an eye out on the surrounding buildings, ready for the slightest hint of hostile movement. His eyes picked up the Johnson on the badge and his heart leapt into his mouth as the obscurity of ignorance once again clouded his mind.

“Good morning Judge Johnson, Judge Tybor reporting in. Is Dredd around?” He spoke is staccato, short sentences as he wasn’t sure if she’d recognize him; if it was her after all– he was thinner than he’d ever been, his voice more shallow, and his movements more ragged. He didn’t carry himself with quite the same aura of courage that he once had; those red hot bullets had burned most of his former bravado out of him along with who knows what else.

There was never a lack of crime in Mega City-1. She was nervously trying to decide what kind of crime to cover,she was undoubtedly rusty, but she didn't want anyone to think she was trying to do something easy because she had lost her edge. On the other hand though, she didn't want to go after something she couldn't handle. She was taking everything into account at this point, thinking about how fast she could draw if need be, and the likelihood of certain criminals to have firearms. If there was one thing she was actually confident in after her time undercover, it was her understanding of criminals. Still, her skills as a Judge though, she was not at all confident about, she was even more worried about humiliating herself in action, crashing her lawmaster, or firing the wrong ammunition from her lawgiver, than she was about getting shot.

She had just about decided on something when she got the orders, at first she ignored them, it had been so long since she'd been referred to as '"Judge Stone" she didn't realize it was referring to her for a few moments. Almost immediately as she made the realization, she felt her heart in her throat, Dredd. What could he possibly want with her? Maybe it was a test to see if she was still capable of being a Judge, noone was better suited at deciding that than Dredd. She though about it again,breaking down what she had heard. Three other Judges were going as well, and to Ashbury. She had been there before when she was undercover, she couldn't remember much because she had so many drugs in her at the time that even if she had, she'd probably only remember dancing with a giant anthropomorphic Elk. Maybe she had done something when she was there? Something bad, maybe she was being taken back to the scene of her crime to be made an example of in front of these other Judges.

She considered just deserting right then and there, not everyone she knew had been busted at that bar, she could hide out in the underbelly of the Mega City. Certainly it was a better fate than Dredd. Of course, it was quite possible she was just overreacting, likely in fact. She decided to go, she would go to Ashbury, and if she though anything was off, she'd run. There was no lack of criminal organizations that would want a former Judge as an enforcer.

It wasn't until she set out that she remembered just how much of a hellhole parts of the Mega City could be. She had been to places like this before as a street judge, and while undercover. That was a long time ago though, and when she was undercover, she was pretty far gone from this reality. She checked her Lawmaster's weapons systems momentarily, and momentarily grasped at her holster, not many folks were dumb enough to try and tangle with a Judge, but this was one of the places those people might be. As she arrived at Ashbury it wasn't long before she found the other Judges already there. Judges Johnson and Tybor, she didn't know either of them.

"Wassup yo!?" She spoke loudly as she approached, and almost immediately regretted it. Seriously? Did I just say that? I sound like a bad Jimp. She mentally chastised herself as she awaited a reply.

William looked across the table at the large figure in front of him. Imposing, scary, yet quite friendly at times, "So can you finally tell me how it all started, Rex?" The young man asked.
"You know I don't know everything, right?" Was the response he got, only making him more curious.
"Well what do you know?" He asked again, leaning forward slightly this time.
"I don't think you realise just how little I know." The larger man added seriously before smirking slightly, "But you really want to know, don't you?"
"Do I look like I've changed my mind?" William asked as he leaned forward even more, grinning this time.
Rex looked away for a moment in thought, then back toward William, his jaw clenched slightly, and a much more serious, and sad look in his eyes, "Most people don't realise all the crazy shit Alistair has been through, but I'll tell you some of what I know." He said, then took a deep breathe before continuing, "He was pretty young when things started. He was a 'good kid' for a while, I guess you could say. Went to church, helped people, all that. He didn't really have too many friends, though, so some pricks from the old gang around this area, The Sharks, or something like that, they used to mess with him sometimes. He was kind of tall, but more lanky like you, so he didn't look very scary." He said, looking over William, and taking a sip of water before continuing, "Well they weren't very kind thanks to that, as you could imagine. I know you've seen a lot of those kinds of guys, pretending to be men when they're just assholes hiding behind guns. We've got some of them ourselves, but I try to keep them in their place." He said, and looked around the room slightly, making sure no one else was around, laughing a bit.

After a moment, Rex looked back toward William, and began to speak again, "Back to Alistair, though. He took a lot of crap just because he was an easy target, so he decided to join up. It didn't do much, but it seems like he learnt a lot from it, judging by what he told me. Those pieces of shit did fucking everything, though. Prostitution, drugs, gambling, whatever they could just for money, then rape, murder, and random shit to whoever they could find just for fun. He did a lot more of it than he likes to admit, but he's nothing like that any more. You can trust me on that. It's part of why he left, or at least he says it is. I believe him. Whether you do, or not, I don't know.

Anyway, after a few years when he did leave, he didn't go alone. A lot of other people agreed with his way of doing things. A little respect can go a long way. Nobody who wasn't involved in that stuff wanted The Sharks around, so they went down pretty fast. Alistair's new group went through a lot of different phases, but they put a lot more focus on taking care of people, especially their own. We still stick by that, as you know. They got really into drugs for a while, though. Some people think they made him crazy, but I know he's right about a lot of what he says, even if he is a bit crazy. Obviously I'm not alone there. It's why you're here, and a lot of others are too. It's why people back in the day joined him too. He took everybody, so long as they believed in working toward something with him. The group got bigger, and I got involved around that time. I know I already told you enough of my story, so you know how the rest goes, pretty much." He said, and finally began to stand up from the table, "Maybe you'll get to be a big part of the story some day too, but I have some things I need to take care of now. If you've got the balls, you can ask Alistair about everything yourself too. I think he likes you enough." Rex added with a slight smirk as he put on his jacket, and walked out the room.

Echo, knowing her gaze would be hidden by the dark coloured visor that was apart of her helmet, gave Tybor the once over.
She knew it was him - Eran Tybor, her old partner of course. As soon as she saw him arrive on his bike, her earlier suspicions had been confirmed. The way he manoeuvred it was instantly recognisable to her, and although Echo had tried her best to restrain herself, she'd not been able to avoid the flinching motion she'd made as she pulled herself back and into position.

Her eyes traced up and down his obviously worse-for-wear body as he now stood in front of her. The jauntiness of his movements as he got off the bike, the paleness of the skin she could see, and the overall shrunken quality his stature seemed to have taken on.

Echo swallowed hard. She'd seen this look before - someone that's undergone one of the rehabilitation programs.
It was hard to replace Judges - if there was enough to patch up at least half a functional Judge, they'd put the pieces back together and send them on their way.
Echo was a capable Judge - she'd been sent out with freshly rehabilitated Judges before to keep an eye on them, help them ease back in. Maybe because she'd done well over the years to avoid excess injury. Aside from an old bullet wound on her left flank and the only recently healed over slice through her lower cheek (which itched horribly, insider her mouth and out), she was essentially unscathed compared to most other judges.
None the less, when it came to what was essentially babysitting recovering judges, it was easy enough - she didn't know them, they didn't know her.

But now? Her chest clenched, turned cold. Eran Tybor may have left her out in open water without any kind of warning, but seeing him like this... it left her in a strange place.
Moving on, she distanced herself from those thoughts, her efforts reverting back to appearing as professional as possible.

"Dredd hasn't arrived yet, no." She answered, finally. "Stone and Sage should be arriving short-"

The low rumble of another cruiser alerted Echo to the arrival of yet another judge on scene. They pulled up to the pair, calling out a loud greeting. Echo shifted slightly, eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion, not quite sure how to respond.

"I'm Judge Echo Johnson, this is Judge Eran Tybor." Her introduction was plain and simple, and she held out a gloved hand to shake after gesturing towards the man beside her. She glanced at the badge on the new arrival's chest.
"Nice to meet you, Judge Stone. Seems like we're only waiting on Sage now."

To say uncertainty reigned supreme for Tybor would be no understatement; he was almost sure it was Judge Echo Johnson but she didn’t seem to recognise him, so may it wasn’t her. Or she was choosing to not acknowledge his return, something which almost angered him. She’d never come in to check on him when he’d been recovering; six months he’d lay in a hospital bed fighting off death’s cold embrace yet she’d not come once. Maybe she couldn’t as some sort of testament to her own mortality; after all Tybor had been like a mentor to the younger Judge. Maybe the thought of seeing the man who’d taught her a lot about being a Judge dying in bed would be too much. He couldn’t know nor did he really wish to know.

Sure enough she hadn’t seemed to have changed much from when he’d last seen her; at least so his memory served. It was sketchier than it’d ever been; the physical trauma he’d been through had cost him mentally too. Memories were fainter, his history more vague. It was the cost of a desperate fight against the death of his mortal body. Yet it also gave him a new perspective on life, whether that was a good or bad one was to be seen but he did feel more comfortable, more assured with himself.

He had more fight in him then he’d ever known about, no meagre thing for a Judge to admit, and he’d proven himself capable of coming back. Now it was all about staying there, he’d done the hard work coming back now he just had to maintain. It’d be different this time for now he was naturally more wary, more ready for someone to jump at any moment. He’d been couped up in a hospital once and there was no way it was going to happen again. The one thing that he’d found out about his new perception was that his hand never left the handle of his gun unless he willed it away. It was his one protection in this harsh world he existed within; the armour which he’d long trusted had been swept away like leaves in the wind when he’d needed it most. All he had trust in now was his gun and himself, maybe that was all he really needed in life too.

Johnson had taken a long time to respond, he had to double check the badge name to make sure it was actually her before he willed himself to not repeat the question. Eventually she responded, informing her that Dredd was not present, at least as far as she’d seen and that the other judges were on the way. He was about to reply when a rather jovial, informal and somewhat laughable greeting came from an arriving judge. He turned his steely gaze to the newcomer, watching her with the eyes of a hawk as she pulled up next to the two assembled judges.

His steely gaze never left the arrival, attempting to read and perceive what he could from the judge. When Johnson introduced herself and him to the new arrival the words hit him like a hammer blow. He’d never mentioned his first name to her in this period here so it was her. Yet she made no attempt to show her recognition and he couldn’t help but wonder why. Attempting to banish such thoughts he simply acknowledged her with a nod and a gruff “Judge Stone”. He chose to attempt to ignore the chillingly casual and immature greeting, there’d be a better person for dealing with such matters than himself.

Rex walked through the city, very clearly with a purpose as he moved forward, avoiding who he could, but not caring if he bumped into anyone. He had a hoodie on, and was wearing the hood, not wanting to be recognised if he could avoid it. He walked too fast for anyone who yelled at him for bumping into them to do anything.

He finally slowed down as he got closer to where he needed to be. He pulled back his hood to look around more easily, showing his face to anyone close enough. A nearby woman wearing very revealing clothes, and lots of make up approached him, rubbing her hand along his arm, “Hey there, you lookin’ for a good time?” She asked with a slightly forced grin, and Rex stared at her for a moment, his expression not hiding that he wasn’t in the best of moods, but he still gave her the kindest answer he could think of in that moment, “Fuck off.” He said very sternly, and she backed away as he took a slow glance around before getting into the building she was standing in front of.

There was an elevator, but he only needed to get to the second floor, and decided the stairs would probably be faster, especially since he knew this wasn’t the kind of building with lots of effort put into maintaining it. His mind was entirely focused on business, and what he had to. He slowed down toward the end of the stairs, making sure he remembered everything he had to. He continued moving at a slow pace as he got to room 216.

He knocked on the door, and said nothing, staring right at the peephole before the door opened, slowly walking inside, greeted by a man smiling slightly, and holding a pistol, “We’ve got him, boss.” Was all the man said as Rex walked forward, pulling out his own pistol, and aiming it toward the man on his knees while two other Guardians looked toward Rex, “You boys wait outside.” Rex said, and they obeyed, moving at a quick, but controlled pace.

Rex stared at the man for a moment, continuing to aim his gun at his head, and the man started to get up, “Stay on your knees, Henry.” Rex said quite commandingly, but also very calmly. Henry obeyed, and looked into his eyes nervously, beginning to speak a moment later, “They gave m-“ He started, but Rex quickly put his finger to his lips to signal him to be quiet, and he listened, getting even more nervous. Rex then moved even closer, and smiled a bit, looking right back into his eyes, and putting his gun back into his pants, “I’m not going to shoot you.” He said, and Henry sighed in relief, smiling as well, “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He said in response.
“You are going to tell me everything, though, aren’t you?” Rex asked, not moving his hand away from his gun just yet.
“Yes. Yes, of course. I’m so sorry. I-I-I just, I, um,” He said, his breathing getting a bit heavier again, “Can I, uh,” He began to say, pointing toward a chair, and Rex looked at him a bit angrily now, “You’re staying on your knees unless you want me to change my mind.” He said very sternly, “You want forgiveness, after all, don’t you?” He asked, and Henry nodded, “Good. Now tell me everything.” He added further, and Henry smiled slightly as he thought about what he was going to say, “Well, they offered me a really good deal, and a few of my guys were already pretty connected with them. I know I said I wouldn’t buy from anyone else, and I’m so sorry. I really am. But I’m a businessman, you know that. I’m not a gang guy, or a thug, or any of that. Just a businessman. I’m not with them, I swear. I’m not going to hurt The Guardians. You guys have been good to me, I like you all. This was all a mistake.” He said, partially trying to convince himself of some of it.
“You’re right about some things, Henry. We were good to you. Very good. Apparently not good enough for you to keep your word, though.” He said, and clenched his jaw slightly for a moment, looking very serious now, “And you see, I’m not a businessman, like you are. I work in words, and actions, not money. Money doesn’t mean much to me. There are so many things greater than it, and I certainly answer to something much greater.” He said with a grin as he looked up for a moment, then back down, “The Hand of God is here, Henry.” He added, grinning wider as Henry’s eyes widened, staring at him in shock.
“No, no. Please no. I’m so sorry. So very sorry. He doesn’t need to be here.” He said, pleading as much as he could, continuing to ramble as Rex moved closer to him before taking a big step forward, and kicked him right in the jaw, practically lifting him off the ground for a moment, rushing toward him before he could recover, and gripping his throat firmly with his right hand, beginning to squeeze the life out of him as Henry attempted to pull his arm off, not even close to successful in doing so as Rex leaned forward, and looked right into his eyes, “You’re a piece of shit, Henry. You should be honoured that I came all this way for you instead of letting those other guys tear you apart. I’ve been good to you. We’ve all been good to you, and yet we’re apparently not good enough. Is that how this is?!” He yelled loudly, and Henry frantically shook his head, his face becoming very red from his struggle as Rex continued to choke him for several more seconds before slowly moving his hand away, and starting to get up, Henry about to do so as well, “Stay on the fucking floor!” Rex yelled at him, and Henry stopped moving, making an attempt to speak for a moment, but deciding against it because of the pain in his jaw, “Put your hand right here. Knuckles up.” Rex said, pointing to a spot on the ground. Henry listened without giving much thought to it, mostly focused on his pain on his neck, and jaw, using his other hand to try to comfort himself.

Rex stared at him for a moment, then looked down at his hand, and before Henry could react, stomped down on it hard with his boot, causing Henry to scream as loud as he could despite his dislocated jaw. He moved toward Rex’s leg instinctively, looking up at him, his eyes begging for him to move away, and he responded by press down even harder, causing another loud yell, “You have no idea how lucky you are, Henry. I’m giving you one more chance. One more.” He said, and finally removed his boot from Henry’s hand as he began to sob, and whimper, holding his hand, and staring at the damage, “But if you fuck up one more time, you get no more chances. I’ve been too nice to you, but I promise, if you do anything I don’t like ever again, you’ll be begging for a bullet through your skull before I’m through with you. Do you understand?” He asked, and Henry nodded frantically.

Rex stared at him for a moment more before finally walking away, and getting out of the apartment, making sure to be quick about it now, “Get out of here, boys.” He said to the three armed men who had been waiting for him earlier. They moved swiftly, knowing that the yelling must have gotten some attention, but Rex moved a bit slower, nodding toward the woman who had spoken to him earlier. She was shaking slightly as he looked at her, but didn’t move, and he just put his hood over his head, and began walking away, going fast at first, but slowing down to seem less suspicious, being more careful about not bumping into people this time.