Justice of the Pit

by ApeUnit

Judge Roebuck is forcibly transferred to Sector 301 after the fallout from allegations of corruption and extortion. Resigned to duty among the worst Judges of the Department in the Hab-Zone best left ignored...

Judge Roebuck

"Beyond Mega-City One's western perimeter, across the vast desolation popularly known as Nuke Alley, lies the City's furthest outpost. The Northwest Hab Zone is a microcosm. With all its attendant tensions, and yet isolated – a backwater where problems can be conveniently pushed and forgotten.

The Pit, dumping ground for every misfit and lowlife in Mega-City One…and that's just the Judges!"

Justice of the Pit

Sector House 301, Sector 301

1730 hours:

The main entrance hall of the Sector House was a hive of activity. There were rows and rows of benches with not a seat empty. They were filled with the beleaguered and victimized citizens that waited for their chance to plead their case to the next available Judge. Many were there to report some form crime committed against them, an assault, a burglary, a rape. The rest were the relatives and friends of incarcerated criminals who hoped to offer an appeal to their love ones' sentences. A select few waited patiently to turn themselves in to the authorities. They came from just about every walk of life. Some sat wrapped in bandages, as this was their first stop after having been discharged from hospital. Others elected to forgo treatment and let their injuries bleed onto the floor. The walls, once a fresh coat of municipal white paint, were now grimy and blackened from scuff marks, and the soil of the constant tide of humanity. When there was no room to sit on the benches, the citizens stood, squatted, or even laid down wherever they could. The crowd this evening appeared to be nearly 700 persons, in a room the fire marshal declared safe for 300.

Judge Frederick John Roebuck was already a six year veteran of the Justice Department. He had seen enough action and witnessed enough horrors to last a hundred men a hundred lifetimes. Roebuck pushed his way through the crowd; dressed in his Judicial duty fatigues worn underneath a reinforced flak jacket. The uniform was compete with a combat belt and holster for his lawgiver. He had his Judicial issue duffle bag slung over his right shoulder and his helmet tucked under his left arm.

The throng of citizens was nearly impassible and Roebuck had to force his way to the inquiries desk. The desk was protected by a partition wall. There were two windows in the partition where desk Judges could assist the citizens. Currently, the two Judicial clerks were inundated by the mass of humanity that sought an audience with a representative of the Justice Department. Roebuck held up his left hand, his fingers wrapped around the edge of the helmet to grip it tightly, and pointed to a heavy steel door. A clerk nodded to Roebuck and unlocked the security door.

Roebuck proceeded through the door after an audible buzz indicated the door was unlocked. The desk continued on the other side of the door, but this section contained no partition. Judge Roebuck turned to his left and waited as a clerk approached and sat down at a terminal at the desk. The clerk held out in his hand to receive effects.

"Papers," the clerk demanded.

Roebuck held up his bi-fold wallet that contained his badge and photo identification card. The clerk scanned the quick response code on the bottom right corner of the card. Roebuck drummed the desk with his fingers, as his credentials instantly populated on the terminal screen, along with details from his transfer orders. After a brief glance over and the pertinent information obtained, the clerk placed a key card and a small padlock on the desk. He slid them over to Roebuck.

"Take the elevators at the end of the hall," the clerk said, as he pointed. "Tenth floor dormitory has bunks available, claim one. There are lockers on that floor as well. Get your gear stowed and be to the briefing hall in thirty for roll call."

The speech was nearly identical for every Judge new to the Sector House. It was spoken so often it sounded purely mechanical and devoid of any hospitable welcome. The arrival was just another reprobate Judge, like the rest. Roebuck stuffed his wallet into a pouch on his belt and trudged off in the direction of the elevator. The clerk resumed his duties. The shift change was soon to take place and he was to be relieved of the watch shortly.

The Sector House itself was fairly new. Constructed in the wake of the Atomic Wars of 2070, it contained the cutting edge of law enforcement technology and was purpose built to Justice Department specifications. Though heavy use had worn the paint and dirtied the place. By comparison, the structure, at least, was step up from the Sector House Roebuck had just transferred from in Sector 288. The Sector House in 288 was an old police station, back when there was still a police force. The building predated the Atomic Wars by several decades and had fallen into disrepair, however, it was still expected to remain fully operational.

After he stowed his gear in a locker and claimed a bunk, Roebuck headed toward the briefing hall. Roebuck arrived a few minutes early. This was a new posting and he was not quite ready to settle into his habitually tardy routine just yet. Not until he had gotten a feel for the new place and practices. Roebuck had heard the rumors about the Sector 301 Judges. These were the worst of the worst; sent to 301 as a final option. The Judges on the night shift entered into to the hall and found seats where they could. These Judges were devoid of morale, stunk of corruption, and disheartened. Roebuck believed he had seen the worst in Sector 288; his former colleagues appeared immaculate next to this lot.

"So you're the fucking new guy?" a voice said.

A female Judge settled into the seat to the left of Roebuck. The name on her badge said "Jenner". She concentrated on Roebuck, sizing him up. Her appearance spoke volumes of the demeanor of the 301 Judges. The left side of her scalp was shaved while the right had hair of a toxic green hue; hanging down to her jaw line. There was an old scar just above the left side of her upper lip. Her eyes were gaunt and sunken into her face.

"Logan Jenner," she said to Roebuck.

"Pardon?" he replied.

"You seem like you've seen your fair share of shit on the streets, had your cheery popped. I suppose that can get you an introduction, being that we're going to be partners and all."

"…oh, I assume that is a good thing? Everyone sorta calls me 'Roe',"

Jenner stared back at Roebuck, a half smile on her face. She turned her body forward to face the front of hall. Roebuck caught a glimpse of a tattoo on the right side of Jenner's neck. The tattoo was some sort of serpentine creature that wound its way up the neck was just visible above the collar on Jenner's flak jacket. Jenner, it seemed, was going to be his partner for the foreseeable future. He did not entirely mind that, she was fairly attractive, in his opinion.

Watch Commander Rohan began her briefing; reviewing the crime statistics and pertinent reports made by the previous shift. She was an apathetic Commander. The briefing contained the venom and contempt she felt for the citizens of Sector 301. The citizens of 301 were about as useful to the city as these Judges were to the rest of the Justice Department. The Watch Commander loaded the night's patrol zones on the Sector map behind her and began to list the assignments. Throughout the room, the assignments lit up on the arm mounted electronic lawscreens of the Judges.

"Briggs and Hue," Rohan spoke. "…or 'way' or 'hugh', however the fuck you pronounce your name. Damn prostitutes have been hanging around the high schools in Pine Meadows Block and the Newford Conapts. No damn selling to juves! They should fucking know better!"

"Great, guess we're pulling the shit assignment," Jenner whispered to Roebuck, annoyed.

"What would that entail?" Roebuck questioned.

"JENNER! And er…Roe-buck," Rohan interrupted. "You two in the middle of something, or can I fucking finish!?"

The tone of the Watch Commander directed toward Jenner and Roebuck matched the apathy she held for her position. Roebuck shifted his attention to Rohan; uneasy in the fact he was being called out on his first day. Jenner had her elbow on the table and her head propped up by her hand. She rolled her eyes at the Rohan's interruption and proceeded to blow a bubble with the gum she chewed. It was evident Jenner held Rohan in little regard. Roebuck decided he better offer at least an obligatory response to acknowledge the Watch Commander.

"No ma'am," said Roebuck.

"Well, as I was saying," Rohan continued. "You two have the Bottom patrol."

"Oh fuck me, not that damn zone again!" protested Jenner. "Every fucking night for the past month!"

"Well princess," replied Rohan. "You'll have some company, so you won't be all alone…And I better not find out you two pulled over in an alley and spent the entire shift screwing!"

"Fuck you, asshole!" Jenner shouted and held up a finger in an obscene gesture.

Roebuck was not sure what to make of Sector 301. The Judges were openly defiant to their superiors. The Watch Commander seemed un-phased by the exchange with Jenner. Under a previous Watch Commander, Roebuck's fellow Judges in 288 suffered a morale collapse. They had their instances of insubordination, but never to this degree. Rohan continued to hand out the assignments to the rest of the shift.

A quick glance around the room, and Roebuck saw for himself the lack of respect these Judges of 301 held for the job. There were Judges flipping through pages on their Megphones, checking social media, downloading porn, and others sending out txt-msgs. A few of the Judges were reclined in their seats and blatantly sleeping through the briefing. The only time Rohan would go off an insubordinate Judge was when she had to issue their assignment. Usually, the acknowledgement of an assignment was met with an obscenity directed toward the Watch Commander. Once Rohan had spoken her piece, she dismissed the briefing and the shift began.

All the Judges of the shift made their way to the lower garages of the Sector House to pick up their vehicles from the motor pool. Roebuck came to the immediate realization that he would need a new lawmaster bike. His issued lawmaster was property of the Sector House in 288 and the Quartermaster was all too happy to have it retained. Roebuck and Jenner caught a lift, and were the only two on board.

"Ought to let you know," Roebuck turned to Jenner. "I had to turn in my lawmaster when I was transferred from 288. Had to catch a ride with a pat-wagon all the way out here. So, I'd better check in with the Quartermaster about getting a new one issued before we head out."

Jenner was doing all she could to contain her amusement at Roebuck's statement.

"Lawmasters in the Pit?" said Jenner. "Well, we wouldn't last five minutes on the bikes in this Sector. Too many randos like to take pot shots for the hell of it, be it cit or Judge. And besides, budget can't afford them, not for this lot of rejects."

"So, if not bikes, then what?" Roebuck asked.

The roar of the fusion-turbo motors roared, as the day shift's dark blue Justice Department patrol sedans sped into the garage. These patrol cruisers must have been the most run down, beat up, and dilapidated vehicles in the Department. The bumpers on all of the vehicles were scuffed and dented; one was cracked and looked to be held on with tape. Another car had a few bullet holes in the engine block. The light bar on a vehicle was partly smashed, so the lights on the left side were the only ones that functioned. The headlights on the some vehicles were shattered. There were not enough cruisers for individual or even partner assignment. Therefore, as one shift ended, they turned the keys over to the one coming on. One sedan pulled up to where Jenner and Roebuck stood. The doors opened and two Judges exited; the day shift. The driver of the vehicle yelled out to Jenner.

"Hey Jenner," he said. "Just a heads up. A creep shit his pants when we booked him. The back seat's a little fucked."

"You sick fuck," Jenner, angered, snarled back at the Judge. "You couldn't at least hose it out? Fucking asshole!"

"Hey fuck you too!" the Judge said, as he and his partner turned the vehicle over to Jenner and Roebuck.

Roebuck opened the rear passenger side door to inspect what they were arguing about. It was not human excrement, as the Judge had led them to believe, rather it was a bloody mess caused by a point blank gunshot. Evidently, whoever was in the backseat had been executed by the Judges in the front. Roebuck shut the door, partly disgusted.

"Ready bitch?" Jenner asked.

"We really gonna driver around town with the backseat like that?" Roebuck inquired.

"No you fucking moron," Jenner snapped. "You're going to drive the car over to those hoses over there. You're going to hose out the fucking backseat, and then we're going out."

He was a bit stunned by her deportment. Something else excited him about it, he liked Jenner. Roebuck climbed into the front seat and drove the sedan over to a row of utility hoses in the garage. As Jenner watched from a distance, chatting with the Judges she just yelled at, he hosed the blood from the backseat. Pools of red colored liquid gathered beneath the cruiser, as the jet of liquid rinsed the blood from the synthetic upholstery. After a few minutes, the blood was noticeably gone and Jenner approached.

"Because it's your first day, I'm driving," She said. "But don't get used to the idea."

Jenner took her place in the driver's seat and Roebuck took his as the passenger. There was a Judicial M-88 Assault Rifle secured in a special vertical weapon mount against the dashboard. The scuffmarks around the barrel and worn bolt indicated frequent employment. The pair of Judges removed their helmets and wedged them on the vehicle's dashboard. The motor roared, as Jenner took off at high speed out of the garage. She drove the cruiser up the garage ramp to street level. Turning blindly into traffic, Jenner cut off several vehicles and forced the motorists to slam on their brakes.

The Departmental cruiser raced through the busy city streets. Jenner expertly weaved between the other vehicles in traffic. The towering monolithic Blocks sprawled towards the heavens at their sides. The setting sun's rays shone between the mammoth structures and doused the city streets below in an orange haze. Jenner took a hard left turn recklessly across the oncoming lane and sped down a ramp. This ramp brought the vehicle and the two Judges to a sub level; a street beneath the street.

000

Bowery Bottom, Sector 301

1830 hours:

When the Blocks were constructed in Sector 301 to alleviate the overcrowding, the designers faced a problem with vehicle traffic. The population of a single Block quickly exceeded fifty thousand, and fifty thousand citizens attempting to access the many Blocks made for a traffic nightmare. The solution was to create a two tier approach to the Sector's Block structures. A second tier of roadways were constructed over the existing ones to allow more cars to access each Block. Inevitably, structures were built on top of the existing ones to accommodate the business needs of those on the upper tier of roads. The upper tier quickly became the new surface street, and the original became an almost labyrinth network below. Many people began to avoid the street below, as it became an epicenter for criminal activity. The businesses below quickly abandoned their buildings. Sheltered from the bustling world above, the street below was a den of poverty. The homeless, afraid of facing vagrancy charges, took up residence. It was a haven for those looking to avoid the attention of the Judges as well, as few Judges willingly ventured below. Over the years, the traffic above became a hopeless gridlock, while the level below became that part of town one avoided. The neighborhood was informally referred to as the "Bowery". It was a name from a time before the Mega-Cities. The lower counterpart simply went by the "Bottom".

The street was deserted of all vehicular traffic, except the one Judicial cruiser. Roebuck gazed out of the window at street. The buildings on either side looked abandoned and boarded up. There were places where it was evident squatters had forced their way in and occupied a few of the structures. A cavalcade of downtrodden citizens shuffled down either side of the street. Their clothes were ragged and old. Some stood around fires lit in trashcans and oil drums. Others blatantly committed various petty offences, such as public urination, public intoxication, and the consumption of narcotics.

"Nice neighborhood," Roebuck joked, an effort to break the silence.

"Yeah, great schools, reasonably priced homes, ideal place," Jenner responded.

"Rohan seems like an interesting person."

"Rohan's an asshole. She gets all petty because I wouldn't sleep with her."

Roebuck gave Jenner a quizzical look. As if to convey he did not believe what Jenner had just said.

"Well, I wouldn't" Jenner defended herself, eyes wide. "Not that bitch anyway."

While the cruiser continued down the street, Jenner reached her hand into Roebuck's crotch. Immediately, she felt Roebuck become hard through his pants.

"You play your cards right…" Jenner seductively inferred.

After a few teasing strokes, Jenner released her grasp and brought her hand back to the steering wheel.

"Well, definitely later," said Jenner. "For now, let's fuck with these people."

Jenner brought the cruiser to a sudden halt in the middle of the street. The sudden halt jolted Roebuck forward in his seat. She grasped the handle to the spotlight mounted in the driver's side frame. The light searched around and exposed a different citizen one by one from the shadows. Some of the cits stared back at light. Others recoiled into the darkness. The light was a nuisance and only served as a form of torment.

"Take a look at them," Jenner said. "Trogs we call them, like Troglodyte. The dwellers of this undercity that is the Bowery Bottom…Fucking disgusting, no better than muties."

"But they aren't muties?" asked Roebuck.

"If they were, we'd have them fucking deported by now. We do find muties pretty frequently down here. The fact 301 and rest of the Hab-Zone is so isolated from the Meg makes it easier for muties to sneak in. A lot of the time, they tunnel right into the Bottom."

"They come in looking for a better life, huh?"

"301 is a shithole. Most of the muties who get trafficked in by a coyote end up forced to work in a drug lab or into prostitution. Though who would fuck a mutie."

"A lot of sick fucks out there," Roebuck humored.

"Awww, you'd pass this up for a mutie?" Jenner replied, propping her chest out as she ran a finger down Roebuck's front.

"I ain't the mutie fucking type, darlin'."

"Hahaha, good!"

She turned off the spotlight and put the cruiser into gear. They resumed their patrol down the street. Jenner made a series of turns at different intersections. It was to a point that Roebuck became disoriented. He did observe that Jenner stuck to streets that still had functioning streetlamps and avoided the ones in total darkness. The trogs initially thought it funny to vandalize Bowery Bottom's buildings and other public works, such as the streetlamps. However, they soon learned that no one from the Department of Public Works dared venture down to replace broken lights. Being the streetlamps were the only source of light, the trogs took to only breaking the ones in strategic areas they needed darkened.

"So how'd you end up in the Pit?" Jenner asked. "What heinous offence earned you a spot among the damned?"

"Fucking around," answered Roebuck. "That, and a pretty bad synti-caine habit."

"Tell me you haven't kicked the habit?"

Roebuck was unsure how to answer Jenner's question. Taking a gamble, Roebuck unzipped part of his flak jacket and stuffed his right hand inside to his left breast pocket. The hand emerged holding a small silver tube. He handed it Jenner.

"Oh fuck yes!" Jenner exclaimed, opening the top and taking snort.

Jenner weaved the car uncontrollably, as the narcotic took effect. Roebuck had to lean over and grab the wheel in order to straighten the cruiser out. Once Jenner regained control, she handed the tube of synti-caine back. Roebuck took two whiffs of his own through each nostril. The synti-caine could always be counted on to lift one's attitude.

"Gruddamn," said Jenner. "We cannot get good shit like that out here. Most drugs are smuggled in from the wastes. Definitely don't want to take those."

The pair began to laugh and enjoyed the high offered by the drug. It, momentarily, took their minds away from the job. A burst of automatic weapons fire opened up from an alleyway ahead and to their left. It was several individuals armed with micro-mac submachine pistols. The bullets flew wildly over the street. Their small caliber and the unwieldiness of the micro-macs meant that the rounds were largely ineffective at striking their target. A few rounds pinged the engine block of the Judicial cruiser, but caused insignificant damage. Jenner slammed on the brakes.

"Fucking juves!" she declared. "Rapid fire, brace against the door and open up."

Roebuck was already ahead of Jenner, as she uttered the instructions. He flung open the passenger side door and started firing. The lawgiver was set to rapid fire, and he unleashed a more precise hail of automatic rounds at the perpetrators. Jenner yanked the M-88 from its mount to open fire, as well.

The Judges returned fire at the unseen foe. The rounds from the enemy impacted the doors of the cruiser, but were stopped thanks to the advanced Kevlar composites fitted to the siding. Flashes of barrels could be observed coming from the upper windows of a derelict structure. Roebuck decided it was time for a show of force. He switched his lawgiver to fire a high-ex round. The high-ex round burst forth from the chamber and toward its target. The façade of the building, where the perpetrators fired, erupted in a moderate explosion. Bits of rubble flew forward and rained down on the street. The exposed area of the impacted building burned from the effect. A thick plume of dust blanketed the area. Roebuck placed a hand into the cruiser and grabbed the dash mounted microphone.

"Alright creeps!" Roebuck said over the vehicle's loudspeaker. "Throw down your weapons and come out slowly. Unless you are looking to join your buddies in a barbeque!"

There was silence in the street. No more shots rang out from the ambush position. Roebuck stayed pressed against the door for cover; waiting for the perps to make their next move. Jenner casually stood up and climbed back into the cruiser; securing the M-88.

"Come on Roebuck," said Jenner. "It was a bunch of fucking juves. They've melted away into the alleys and buildings."

"Shouldn't we go after them?" Roebuck replied, as he stood up with lawgiver still trained. "We aren't going to let a bunch of fucking juves get away with this?"

"Gangs of feral juves run the streets of the Bottom. They're always pulling this type of shit. Some sick thrill they get. They can't shoot for shit with those guns and are usually more of nuisance. But can't recall anyone blasting them apart like that. Maybe they'll steer clear from ya."

"Yeah..." said Roebuck with a sadistic grin of accomplishment.

Jenner motioned Roebuck to get back into the vehicle and he nodded in affirmation. The pair sped off from the scene and in search of the Bottom's next event. Jenner suggested to Roebuck that they omit the shootout ambush from their shift report. It would be less paperwork and one less deadly force justification form to fill out. Roebuck agreed. They each took a few more whiffs of Roebuck's synti-caine to help pass the time. The hours seemed to fly by.

000

"You hungry?" Jenner asked.

"Yeah, I guess I could go for something," played down a starving Roebuck.

"There's a Sino-ese takeaway a few streets over from here, General's Wok. Just about the only edible food down here."

"Why's that?"

"Try not to think about what they put in it, or where they've gotten it."

"That's reassuring."

"Hey we could try the Hottie House or the Waffle Casa down here. Only problem is, the corporate offices aren't aware of any Hottie Houses or Waffle Casas down here."

The cruiser rolled to a halt. Jenner slammed the shifter into reverse and backed the cruiser into an alley. The ally was a dead end and only accessible by the way the Judges entered. This allowed them to sit and observe the street, without having to worry about some creep sneaking up on them. Roebuck surveyed the street in front of him. The trogs shuffled along. Several converged on a single individual every so often. They appeared to have a discreet exchange and then would part, but the individual stayed in his place. There were a few barely clad women who loitered around the façade of neon lit building, directly across from where the cruiser was parked. The building was known as the Arcade, judging by the brightly lit sign that read "Arcade". The girls whistled at the men who walked by, accosted them, and the occasional one left with a john. The Arcade was the most prominent on a row of neon lit buildings on either side of the street. The buildings all played host to any vice one sought. There were a number of legitimate businesses; shop owners too proud, stubborn, or destitute to relocate.

A lower section of the Arcade had an open air counter that accessed the sidewalk. There were neon letters above the counter in Sino characters. It was the Sino-ese takeaway Jenner had suggested. The two Judges exited the cruiser and casually strode across the street. A few of the prostitutes and dealers, the ones that were considered mutants, immediately shuffled away at the sight of the oncoming Judges. Those trogs conducting illegal business and not affected by radioactive mutations, continued their business as usual. Roebuck and Jenner would not interfere, not unless provoked.

The open air counter of General Wok was complete with barstools and a motley collection of trogs. The patron trogs sat on the stools and shoveled the greasy Sino-ese food into their mouths. Jenner pushed her way to the counter to place the order. Two of the patrons were made to vacate their seats by the Judges. The owner muttered something in his native Sino tongue, having yet to fully master English. Jenner entered into a heated exchange with the owner over the order. When the man stormed away, Jenner was confident she had placed an order for herself and Roebuck.

The trog to Jenner's left gawked at the female Judge. Clearly, the individual was overcome with lust at the sight of the woman in a Judge's uniform. The trog continued to stare with an indolent expression. When Jenner took notice, she punched the trog right in the nose. The trog fell to the ground; clenching the bleeding nose. Jenner then picked up the trog's half consumed meal and threw it on the creep. It was a final insult to injury. A few emaciated urchins dashed from the shadows to pick up the bits of food thrown on the ground. The defeated trog shuffled away in shame. Nobody around seemed to care.

"Fucking animals," stated Jenner.

"Humanity's unwanted condemned to the Pit," mused Roebuck. "Just like us."

"There's no humanity left in the Pit."

It was a depressing place, the Bowery Bottom and the rest of the Pit. Things were bad in Mega-City One, but here things were appalling. Life was held in little regard and the people lived like animals. Jenner's statement was correct. There was no humanity to be found.

The takeaway owner placed a meal in front of each of the Judges. Jenner immediately set about to devouring it. The mysterious food had become just a common meal for her, as she stuffed her mouth with noodles on the chopsticks. Roebuck, on the other hand, poked and prodded the suspicious contents of the meal. The origins could not be determined and was not entirely sure what it comprised. Beggars could not necessarily be choosers, as the food complimentary. With suspicion, Roebuck took a bite. The noodles were covered in a greasy slime. It was no worse than the gruel served in the major fast food chains. It was actually quite good. Before long, Roebuck found himself stuffing his face. Neither Judge spoke, too concentrated on eating. The relatively delicious meal was interrupted by a radio call.

"Control to Unit Twenty-Three," the dispatcher called. "Unit Twenty-Three please respond."

"Shit," Jenner said angrily, as she dropped her food and picked up the radio. "Control, this is Unit Twenty-Three. Go ahead."

"Unit Twenty-Three, reports of a shootout on Lower 3rd Ave. Multiple wounded. Medical units requesting Judge escort to the scene."

"Control, who's the primary unit coving the shooting? Can't they handle?"

"Unit Thirty-One is already on scene. Reports of multiple cit casualties. No other units available for escort. This one is yours, Jenner. Get off your ass and escort those medics. Control out."

"Unit Twenty-Three confirms," Jenner said begrudgingly, as she deactivated the radio. "Fuckin' trogs with their fuckin' shootouts."

000

The cruiser raced down the desolate street. The blue and red lights of the vehicle lashed against the boarded facades of the decrepit buildings. The screech of the siren tore through the silent air alerting all to stay out of the Judges' way. Jenner was behind the wheel and maneuvered the cruiser at near reckless speeds. Roebuck sat calmly in the passenger seat, as he continued to eat his interrupted meal from the paper oyster pail. The labyrinth of the Bowery Bottom was so vast and filled with so many intersections, it took a fair amount of time to travel from one area to another. The two Judges had to proceed to the upper street access where the med-wagon waited, escort the paramedics to the scene, and remain there as protection. Trogs were always eager to climb aboard a med-wagon and appropriate any medical supplies they could grab. Medics refused to enter the Bottom without a Judicial escort.

Unit Thirty-One was the call sign for the cruiser driven by Judges Rick Kemper and Elroy Booker. They were another pair who had drawn patrol of the Bowery Bottom. The immense size of this undercity meant the cruisers could patrol for hours and not run into each other. There were the occasions that their paths crossed. Roebuck picked up the handset to try and get some information from the other unit.

"Thirty-One, this is Twenty-Three," Roebuck said over the radio. "Be advised, we are enroute to pickup med-wagon and provide escort. Estimating twenty minutes to you, copy?"

"Jenner, who the fuck is that!?" a voice responded. "Is that your new boytoy?"

"Booker! You son of bitch!" Jenner shouted; snatching the handset. "Just give us a sit-rep!"

"Jovis girl! Alright, alright. Six dead and three critically wounded. Of the three, two are perps and one is an innocent, a juve. Situation is contained. Classic shoot and scoot. Instigators are long gone."

Jenner tossed the handset back to Roebuck, who slammed it into its cradle on the dashboard. A few more minutes of expedient driving brought the cruiser to an access ramp to the street above. A solitary med-wagon sat parked on the incline and the paramedics inside; waiting. The blare of the siren indicated it was time to go, the escort had arrived. Jenner started out in the direction of the shooting with the ambulance in tow. The trip required more time than necessary, as Jenner and Roebuck had to backtrack most of the way. Finally, they arrived.

000

The scene was one of pandemonium. All manner of curious trogs had turned out to gawk at the bodies and the activity. Bullet holes riddled the surrounding buildings where rounds had been fired in the shooting. The loved ones and acquaintances huddled around the bodies of the deceased. Some close family members knelt beside the corpses of their departed and wept emotionally. Others tried to hold the crowd back, as they lay sheets over the dead. The three that were still alive were tended to by fellow trogs who lacked basic medical skills. It was more of an obligatory treatment. The innocent victim, a mere bystander caught in the crossfire, was a juve of five. Kemper and Booker were leaning against the hood of their cruiser. The scene had been secured to their satisfaction. Both were unwilling to render medical aid to trogs.

The crowd blocked the street for the oncoming emergency vehicles. Jenner blasted the horn of the cruiser to inform the trogs to clear the way. The trogs were slow to react and Jenner decided to slowly drive into the crowd. The oncoming cruiser forcibly pushed the trogs clear enough for them to disperse. The medics leapt out of their wagon to attend the wounded, confident they were adequately protected.

Jenner and Roebuck exited their cruiser and took up an overwatch position from the vehicle's hood. Roebuck leaned back on the hood and lit a cigarette from a pack kept in his duty belt. He offered one to his partner, but she declined. Jenner sat down on the hood, knees bent, and her boots the cruiser's dented bumper. She popped in another stick of bubblegum and began to blow bubbles. Kemper and Booker wandered over, eager for a conversation. With four Judges on the scene, the trogs would not risk bothering the medical personnel.

"Get into anything fun tonight, Jenner?" called Kemper.

"We were in the middle of fucking dinner until you assholes cried for help," Jenner responded.

"Don't suppose you got another one of those?" Booker held up a two fingers and gestured for a cigarette.

Roebuck took the crumpled pack out and held it toward the others. Booker took one, as did Kemper. Despite the nuclear annihilation, Roebuck was always able to get his hands on actual dirt grown tobacco cigarettes. It was his secret and always helped him make acquaintances in the right places. The Judges held their cigarettes up, as Roebuck lit each one.

"So scary black guy is Booker," started Jenner. "And the squirt is Kemper. This here's Roebuck, in from Sector 288."

Elroy Booker was a tall and imposing figure. His jaw was firmly locked and an expression of sternness appeared on his face at all times. There was humorous side to Booker, but only known to those he considered friends. He was an exercise fanatic and not afraid to delve into performance enhancing drugs to give him that energetic boost. It was when he tested positive for illegal steroids on a random Departmental drug screening that earned him his place in the Pit. By contrast, Rick Kemper was young and arrogant. Only twenty years old, he had the unfortunate luck to be assigned to Sector 301straight after Academy graduation. There was no misconduct on his part; it was simply how the assignments were drawn. Two years in the Pit molded Kemper into a cocky Street Judge.

"So you're the new guy?" asked Kemper, sizing up Roebuck. "What're you in for?"

"I volunteered," Roebuck wisely replied. The group got a laugh.

"Where'd you get the smokes?" Booker questioned. "These the real thing? Not synti?"

"You're Gruddamn right they're real. A clerk I know at our Embassy in Indo-Cit sends me a carton now and again. Only place in the world left without enough rads to prevent farming."

"No shit."

Their conversation drifted on for a long while. The medics had loaded the wounded in the hold of the med-wagon. The dead were left in the care of the crowd, as there were not enough beds. The paramedics were on their own to fend off the grieving loved ones of the wounded, who were overcome emotion. The family members cried openly; unwilling to part with their deceased. The four Judges stayed where they were; enjoying the conversation and the smokes. If the trogs assaulted the paramedics or stole medical supplies, then the Judges would intervene. For now, they sat back and watched.

The wounded and dead were loaded. The paramedics in the rear compartment of the med-wagon worked frantically to care for their patients. The multiple gunshot wounds meant they had their work cut out. Kemper and Booker gave a final nod in gratitude for the cigarettes. They walked toward their cruiser. Likewise, Jenner and Roebuck climbed back into their vehicle. The shift was at drawing to an end. All they had to do was escort the med-wagon to the ramp and return to the Sector House.

000

Sector House 301

0730 hours:

Roebuck was exhausted. There had been some excitement, but it was more fatigue from settling into the new assignment. The stench and grime of the Bottom covered his body. He felt disgusted by the filth. The very nature of a city beneath the streets compounded the filth; making it inescapable. Roebuck had just stepped out of the shower in the personnel locker room. He had his towel tied around his waist. His exposed upper chest displayed all his visible scars and wounds he received on the job.

The locker room was mostly empty. Most of the night shift Judges were so accustomed to the filth, they just went straight to their bunks. The showers were attached to a room divided into aisles by lockers on either side. It was a unisex arrangement, as celibate Judges were indoctrinated to keep their minds on Law and not the opposite sex. Roebuck had his flak jacket and duty fatigues hung in a locker. He was going to change into PT sweats before crawling into his bunk for some much needed sleep. Before Roebuck could remove his towel in order to change, Jenner appeared.

Jenner stood in front of Roebuck completely in the nude. He admired her slender and toned body. The firm breasts were distracting enough, as was her enticing grin. Her body was just as scarred and battered as his, with a noticeable burn patch covering the lower left side of her abdomen. The serpentine tattoo on her neck was more visible. The slithering creature wrapped down her neck and over her right shoulder. From there, it crossed her back from blade to blade until it wrapped over her left shoulder where its tail ended. It meant to give the impression she actually had a serpent wrapped over her shoulders. Roebuck could not take his eyes off of her and Jenner drew near.

There was not a word spoken by either Judge. Jenner put up a hand tograsp the back of Roebuck's neck and pulled him for a kiss. With her other hand, she loosed the towel around his waist and allowed it to fall to the floor. The pair began kissing passionately; intensely. Jenner was the aggressive type. She would bite Roebuck on his lip and then move for his neck. There was a bench in the center of the aisle between the lockers. Roebuck pushed and Jenner pulled, and the both ended up on the bench. Jenner was on the bottom, as Roebuck climbed on top. There was not much else to focus on and Roebuck felt himself sliding into the Jenner. He thrust forward and she moaned.

"Choke me," Jenner whispered.

Roebuck grasped Jenner's throat. His fingers clamped down on the sides of her neck. The circulation slowly began to cut off and Jenner felt a wave of ecstasy from the denial.

"Harder!" Jenner managed, as the breath slipped away.

The escalated and grew rougher; more carnal. Roebuck maintained the rhythmic pounding, gaining speed at each thrust. Jenner's eyes rolled back into her head. She was enjoying every moment, every sensation. The choking was to a point that Jenner would soon lose consciousness. At that moment, Roebuck had reached his climax. His body shuddered, as he collapsed. Jenner abruptly threw Roebuck off, eager to avoid any intimate holding.

"Damn, so the rumors were true," said Jenner with a wink. "Get some sleep big boy. The Bottom will be waiting for us."

Jenner took the towel that Roebuck had been using. She wrapped it around her exposed body and sauntered off to another part of the locker room. Roebuck slumped to the floor. Between the long shift and the encounter with Jenner, he was completely exhausted. The last woman he had been intimate with was Lana.

Lana was the girlfriend he hid from the Department, and the job he hid from her. Theirs was a close relationship. Roebuck had even contemplated deserting the Justice Department to run away with Lana. The plan and their romance came crashing down. It happened when Roebuck's old Watch Commander found out and murdered Lana. Roebuck was made to watch. The ordeal still haunted his nightmares. He did all he could to block her death from his mind. After all, in a drugged out state, it was Roebuck who told the Watch Commander about the relationship.

After a few minutes afforded to regain his energy, Roebuck was up and dressed. No stops were made between the locker room and the dormitory. Roebuck climbed into the bunk he had selected and fell asleep shortly after.

000

Bowery Bottom, Sector 301

0100 hours:

"Shut your fucking mouth!" Roebuck ordered, as he slammed the perp onto the hood of the cruiser.

"Fucking trogs!" shouted Jenner.

Roebuck had one suspect in flexcuffs and pressed against their squad car. He held his daystick to back of the perp's neck, so they would remain compliant. Jenner had her daystick in hand. She was in the midst of beating a trog who had made the mistake of resisting. Blows from Jenner's daystick and kicks from her steel toed boots landed on the helpless perp. The trog's wretched cries bellowed up the cavernous halls of the Bottom.

Both of the trogs had been in the mist of fisticuffs when spotted by Jenner and Roebuck. The appearance of the trogs, their tattered clothing and putrid odor, indicated they lived on the streets; two homeless among the tide of so many. When the cruiser turned the corner, the pair of trogs were in the middle of road and at each other's throats. Their test of combat concerned some trivial matter the Judges could not determine, nor did they care to find out. Lawful intervention was undertaken, not when the trogs refused to end their struggle, but when they would move in front of the cruiser's path.

"Resisting arrest and assaulting a fellow cit," Roebuck began. "You're looking at fifteen years in the Iso-Cubes, creep."

The trog, Roebuck passed sentence on seemed unfazed by the conviction. In an unyielding defiance, the trog still resisted and sought to resume the struggle with his opponent. Jenner forwent judgment on the trog she had rendered the beating. Rather, she drew her lawgiver from the holster on her right thigh. A shot rang out, the sound of the gun reverberated through the dereliction of the structures. Her trog was dead, executed for being just that, a trog. Roebuck was alarmed by the suddenness in Jenner's action.

"Roe, what the fuck are you doing?" questioned a stern toned Jenner.

"Jovis, what the fuck Jenner!" said a startled Roebuck.

"Don't sentence the fucks. I don't want to be up all fucking day doing paperwork. They're Gruddamn trogs. Put a bullet in the head and be done with it!"

There was some reason to Jenner's cruel words. Human life was already cheap in Mega-City One, and Jenner believed the trogs should not be seen as human. Roebuck decided it was best to go along with the actions of his partner. He lifted the trog from the hood of the cruiser and threw the man to the ground. The eyes of the trog opened wide, as Roebuck planted a foot on the man's gut to keep him down. Roebuck drew his own lawgiver and fired a single standard execution round.

"Glad to see you know how we play down here," snickered Jenner.

"Guess it just wasn't his day," replied Roebuck.

The two Judges returned to the cruiser. Roebuck was behind the wheel this time. After several days of patrol, Jenner had thought it best Roebuck learn to navigate the Bottom. The bodies of the trogs were left where they died. No doubt other trog scavengers would emerge from the shadows to pick the two clean of what trivial belongings they possessed. Their flesh would even serve as sustenance to the truly destitute. Jenner kept quiet; not in the mood to converse.

On the road, Roebuck accelerated the cruiser. It was prudent on the part of the Judges to keep moving. The trogs, concealed in the upper floors of the buildings, liked to randomly open fire on the squad cars, as they passed. It occurred every so often and the shots were not always accurate. The random shootings had killed three Judges assigned to the Bottom, including Jenner's former partner. The obscene glare of the still operation neon signage reflected off of the windshield of the cruiser. The silence between Jenner and Roebuck was broken by the crack of the radio.

"Control to Unit Twenty-Three" the dispatcher called out.

"This is Twenty-Three," Jenner said, snatching the handset. "What do you want?"

"Got a 911 call. Sounded like a distraught juve on the line. He said men were hurting his sister. Couldn't get many details outta him before he hung up. We traced the call to a Meg-cell in a two block radius of Avenue K and Burnis Street."

"Control, don't waste our time. It's fucking juves making crank calls."

"Kid sounded sincere on the phone, pretty upset too. This one comes from the Watch Commander. She wants it checked out. Copy?"

"Yeah Control, we got it," Jenner ended the conversation displeased.

Roebuck turned the next corner and switched on the cruiser's lights. The location of the emergency call was fairly close by. Traveling at an expedited, albeit reckless, pace, it would only take around six minutes to reach the scene. Jenner was less enthusiastic. She was well aware the juves who inhabited the Bottom enjoyed prank calls to the Justice Department, as a distraction from the monotony and poverty.

"Slow down, Roe," Jenner grumbled. "No sense in us crashing the car trying to respond to a bogus call."

"I figured we were taking it as urgent," replied Roebuck.

"Fuck what Control said and fuck what Rohan told them to say. It's bullshit. trogs know better than to call the Judges. They know we won't help. It's just Rohan making sure we aren't asleep."

"Or screwing…"

"Pfffff, you got that right."

"Well, if it's alright with you, I'd like to take it. If it turns out to be nothing we'll have at least killed some time on our day."

"Fifty creds say it's bullshit."

"Deal."

There was a grumble from Jenner, as she crossed her arms and settled back into her seat. They were getting close, only a few streets away from the area of the call trace. It was a decrepit area, like most of the Bottom. The buildings all around looked to have been in disrepair for some time. Everything appeared abandoned. The street lights in the area had long been shattered and taken out of use. A pile of rubble spilled over into the street and took up half of the lane. Roebuck had to slow and cautiously maneuver around. The rubble was once a building that had collapsed from years of neglect.

The cruiser slowly proceeded down the street. The Judges switched off the vehicle's obnoxious lights and siren. Roebuck had activated the spotlight on the driver's side door frame. The beam of light penetrated into the darkened interiors of the old buildings, as Roebuck searched for any signs of a disturbance. Jenner was doing the same on her side, but more concerned about locating a sniper or potential ambushers. Directly ahead, Roebuck could see a parked van.

A deafening scream pierced the air. The bloodcurdling screech caught the attention of the Judges. They looked out the front windshield of the cruiser. In the glow of headlights there was an outline of girl, likely in her teens, running across the street. The girl's clothes looked to be torn and she the victim of some form of violent assault. A contingent of three thugs gave pursuit, clearly the perpetrators.

"That's fifty you owe me," said Roebuck.

Roebuck slammed the shifter of the cruiser into park and threw open his door. He was out of the vehicle and rushing in before Jenner could even place her helmet on her head. The thugs were a bit startled by the arrival of the Judges. Roebuck had his lawgiver drawn and aimed.

"FREEZE MOTHER FUCKER!" Roebuck ordered.

The thugs were ready to about-face and retreat to the safety of their van. The noncompliance was enough for Roebuck to force the route of action. He fired his lawgiver. A burst of 10mm rounds struck the thug closest to the Judge. The thug fell to the ground, dead. One thug decided to escape, while the other decided he needed to stand his ground. As the defiant thug opened his overjack and pulled out a pistol, Jenner fired her own weapon. This thug was dead before Roebuck had an opportunity to aim. The remaining thug, the one wise enough to set to flight, ran as fast as he could to escape.

"The bastard's mine!" exclaimed Roebuck, as he followed in pursuit.

The shooting of the second thug by Jenner afforded the one who fled a sizable lead to run. Roebuck set off to chase the final thug down; leaving Jenner behind. The fleeing thug bolted to the van; confident he could get it started and drive off before being apprehended. Roebuck had holstered his lawgiver. He wanted this to end in a violent, physical confrontation.

The thug opened the driver's side door of the van and leapt inside. He fumbled with the keys in panicked effort to start the escape vehicle. The moment the thug inserted the key into the ignition, Roebuck punched his closed left fist through the door window. The Judge knocked a hole in the glass wide enough to fit an arm through, but the rest of the window held its integrity. The act startled the thug, who had not time to react.

Roebuck seized the man by the shirt and pulled him toward the window. The thug was not belted to the seat; making it possible for Roebuck to pull the man's head back through the hole that had been punched. The thug's head impacting the window caused the weakened glass to completely shatter. Bits and shards of glass were implanted into the thug's head and scalp. He screamed in agony, as glass shards punctured his skin. Roebuck released his hold on the thug and opened the door. The thug slumped onto the ground; a blood soaked mess.

A pain shot through Roebuck's left hand. It was not that long since Roebuck punched his fist through a glass pane, but that time had been bare-knuckle and the hand was still healing. The impact had ignited the wounds. There was no time to think on that, the thug had to be restrained. Roebuck placed a set of flexcuffs onto the still wailing thug and brought the man to his feet. The streams of blood ran down the thug's face; bits of glass still embedded. Roebuck walked the thug over to the cruiser.

Jenner had brought the girl the cruiser and sat her in the passenger seat. She was in the midst of retrieving a blanket from the trunk, as Roebuck approached. The girl's clothes been almost completely torn away. Roebuck knocked the thug to the ground. Since the thug's hands were cuffed behind his back, he had no means to brace the fall. The ground hit him hard and he knocked his forehead against the asphalt; opening another wound.

"Move, and we take the long way to the med-center," Roebuck threatened.

The thug lay in place; so overcome by the pain that he was incapable of formulating an escape. Roebuck walked around to the passenger side of the cruiser to check in with Jenner. Jenner had removed her helmet and placed it on the dashboard. Roebuck had neglected to put his on when he exited the vehicle. The girl had been wrapped in a blanket. In an effort to keep the girl calm, Jenner held her hand. Roebuck knelt down beside Jenner to get a look.

It was a grizzly sight. The girl's face been severely bludgeoned. It was so swollen and bruised she was barely recognizable. The bruising was not new; evidence this was not the first assault. A sizable cut on the girl's forehead was bleeding profusely and Jenner was grabbing a med-kit in order to treat it.

"Fucking Grud," Roebuck said out of shock.

"They beat her and raped her," replied Jenner. "Looks like she was in the middle of running away when we rolled up."

"She's only a kid! Jovis Grud, a fucking kid."

"Roe, this head wound is pretty bad. We need to get her to a hospital."

"Waiting on a med-wagon would take too long. How far are we from Sector General?"

"Next up-ramp is not that far from here. Maybe ten minutes. Ex the perp and let's go."

"I need him alive to answer a few questions. You take off, I'll search for the juve that placed the call."

"No! Out of the question. I'm not leaving you alone down here. The Bottom is too dangerous for that lone wolf shit."

"Then the creep comes with us. I'll sit in the back and keep him company."

"Fine," responded an exasperated Jenner.

Roebuck stood up and returned to the injured thug. He opened the rear driver side door and hauled the thug onto the backseat. Meanwhile, Jenner buckled in the girl. The girl's head was bobbing and she was starting to lose consciousness. If there was any chance for the girl, they had to get her to a med-center. Jenner and Roebuck both climbed into the cruiser. Jenner was in the front seat to drive, and Roebuck in the back to keep the thug restrained. The engine fired up and Jenner mashed the accelerator.

000

Sector 301 General Hospital

Sector 301:

The Judicial cruiser rolled up to the emergency room med-wagon drop off with lights and sirens blaring. A radio call ahead to the med-center was supposed to have a team of trauma nurses and a doctor waiting at the entrance. Roebuck cursed at their absence. The perp was secured in the backseat and bleeding all over himself. When the cruiser stopped, Roebuck jumped out of the back and opened the passenger door. He lifted the girl from the front seat, her frail body felt weak in his arms. There was still no sign of the trauma team. Roebuck took it upon himself to get the girl to a doctor. Jenner locked the perp in the cruiser, so he could not escape, and followed Roebuck inside.

The emergency room waiting area was pathetic. It was overcrowded and under understaffed. Battered and bloodied cits sat in the waiting chairs or sprawled out on the floor. The whole interior was disgusting; blood stained the floors and walls. The med-center's staff shortage meant individuals with grievous injuries were forced to sit for hours before they could be admitted. A large throng of cits crowded around the admittance desk; overwhelming the solitary nurse. The cits were desperately trying to get to be seen by a doctor, as each plead the severity of their ailment. Roebuck, with the aid of Jenner, pushed through the mass and up to the counter.

"Where's that trauma team we called in?" Roebuck demanded.

"Attending to other patients," the apathetic nurse responded. "She's only a rape, her triage priority has been reduced and we've cancelled the trauma team. Grad a seat and we'll call her once there's a bed available."

"I don't give a shit about your triage. This is a Justice Department matter and you'll have her admitted, or I'm slapping you with an obstruction of justice charge. Five years mandatory."

"Oh please lawboy. You think you're the first Judge who's come in here making threats like that? Do we need to go over the Law Clause pertaining to medical judgments? A licensed emergency medical caregiver cannot be coerced or influenced by judicial orders when assigning or undertaking lifesaving medical aid or determining what order that aid be administered within reason. Futhermore, they shall be exempt from any and all criminal charges if decisions were rendered in a reasonable manner. So, sign her in and find her a seat. If you need to get back on the street, list yourself as a POC and we'll call you."

Roebuck was furious, but nurse had made the argument. There was such a clause on the books to protect doctors who had to make tough calls under pressure. It was meant to remove any anxiety of legal retribution that may influence a doctor's decision. Roebuck scanned the emergency room. It was so crowded with the sick and injured that simply leaving the girl was not an option. He motioned over to Jenner to follow.

The Judges, with the girl in Roebuck's arms, push out of the crowd to a large double security door. The twin set of doors separated the waiting room from the interior of the hospital. This is where someone critically injured brought in by med-wagon would pass. There was a small fob panel next to the door for authorized persons to scan and enter. Fortunately, the Judges all possessed the necessary codes to access such areas. Jenner tapped the panel with the backside of her glove; the electronic fob was sewn into the left glove of every Judge. The doors opened and, in defiance of the hospital staffs' orders, the Judges entered.

The first room on their right, as they entered the hallway was vacant. It was a simple examination room setup with all the necessary medical equipment. Roebuck stepped inside and gently laid the girl down on the bed. He looked down at her emaciated and tattered body, and took pity. That was an emotion he struggled to express. Meanwhile, Jenner had seized the first passing individual in a long white coat that looked near enough to a doctor and dragged them into the room. Roebuck took over. He grabbed the surprised doctor by the labels of the coat.

"The girl sees a doctor now!" snarled Roebuck.

The Judge released his grip of the doctor. The doctor began a nervous examination of the girl. The girl was quiet. She had not made a sound since Roebuck and Jenner placed her into the cruiser. The head wound was still bleeding and soaking into the pillows of the bed. The doctor turned and asked permission to summon a trauma team to the room. The Judges nodded and the doctor tapped the signal button. At the urging of the doctor, Roebuck and Jenner exited the room. The girl was being seen and they were only in the way.

The medical personnel took over from there and the Judges went back outside. Roebuck leaned back against the side of the cruiser to catch his breath. He stared up into the night sky. Light drops of rain began to fall onto face. Jenner stood by the driver's seat and leaned on the roof of the car. They were both exhausted from the adrenaline high and the ordeal at the hospital.

"Hey Roe!" Jenner said, as blew a bubble with her gum. "How about a drink and shag once were off?"

"Let's book the creep into holding," said Roebuck. "Then let's get trashed."

"Sounds alright with me. Probably should get the thug to a doctor?"

"Probably."

The euphemism in Roebuck's reply indicated the thug would not actually be seeing a doctor, at least not anytime soon. Dawn was breaking over the City and the patrol was set to come to an end shortly. Roebuck nodded to Jenner and the pair both climbed into the front seats of the cruiser. The next stop was the Sector House.

000

The thug was screeching and thrashing about, as Roebuck and Jenner dragged him through the lobby of Sector House. Some of the cits who waited gasped at the bloody sight, while others kept their attention to themselves. It took both Roebuck and Jenner combined to haul the thug to the processing window for booking. The thug was in excruciating pain and demanding to see a doctor. He was desperate enough to try anything to get to one.

A pair of Judicial auxiliaries, responsible for processing and suspect detention, opened the large steel door that separated the public from the rest of the Sector House. Once in the custody of the auxiliaries, the thug would be taken to a holding cell and detained. The detention would last until the Judges had extracted all information and passed a sentence.

"What's the booking charge?" asked one of the auxiliaries, as they took possession of the thug.

"He's a kiddie rapist," replied Jenner.

"Hold him until our next shift starts," added Roebuck. "We'll be going over some questions with him. And if there's a medic on staff, probably should have him checked out."

The auxiliary nodded, fully understanding the double meaning of the statement. The personnel of the Justice Department all held rapists and pedophiles in the about the same regard as a Judge killer; lowest of the low. The thug would end up sitting in a holding cell for several hours before a medic would be called. All the while, he would be subjected to physical abuse by the auxiliaries. Not being sworn Judges, the auxiliaries always sought a chance to take a power trip by assaulting prisoners under their custody. Nobody in Sector 301 ever said anything. Roebuck turned to Jenner, ready to have her until the next shift started.

000

Hilton Seasons

Sector 301:

Roebuck sat awake in the bed. He had been unable to sleep all day and the night shift would be starting soon. Jenner was at his side; lying face down and sleeping in the nude. The two of them had checked into the hotel shortly after the end of the shift and a change of attire at the Sector House. They had to travel and arrive separately to avoid suspicion. Jenner stopped at a liquor store to bring a case of beer, while Roebuck came bearing a bag of synti-caine liberated from the seized narcotics locker. The afternoon was spent drinking, taking drugs, and engaging in casual sex.

The images of past night flashed through Roebuck's mind. No amount of drugs or alcohol could purge them, or even offer a distraction. The thoughts of that teenage girl being attacked kept him awake. It filled him with anger, exacerbated by the substance abuse. He stared down at his left arm. The hand was wrapped in bandages to keep it supported after he had punched through the van window. The pain was still there. On the inside of his forearm were four hash marks; a tally he carved deep into his skin with a knife.

The cuts were deep, and the scars were pronounced and permanent. Each hash mark was for someone close to him that he had lost. The first was for Sarah Holmes, the first woman he ever loved; killed when her husband found out about the affair with the Judge. The second was for his sister Juliette Roebuck; died of a drug overdose when supposedly in the care of their brother, Warren. Rhett Marston, his former patrol partner, was the third. Marston was killed in the line of duty and Roebuck blamed himself for every action not taken to stop the shooter. The final mark was cut the deepest. It was for Lana Abernathy, the woman Roebuck fell in with and was willing to risk everything for a chance to be together. Her recent death still weighed heavily on Roebuck's mind.

The effect of the synti-caine could still be felt. For a moment, Roebuck believed he saw Lana; dressed in her bright sundress, her blonde hair flowing, crawl towards him on the bed. After he shook his head in disbelief, she was gone. The synti-caine caused powerful, almost lifelike hallucinations. He knew he could not allow Jenner to be close. She did not seem like she wanted to be. It was clear Jenner was not looking anything, just entertainment. It was a cruel life Roebuck lived, and he wondered how much longer he would have to endure it.

000

Interrogation Room 4

Sector House 301:

"We can make this easy for you Marv," Roebuck addressed the thug. "Just answer my questions and I can guarantee you life without parole in an Iso-Cube tomorrow. We call them that, Isolation Cubes, because you'll be alone, all by yourself. Nobody constantly coming into your cell to hurt you, no beatings. Just plenty of time to yourself."

"Look man, I ain't no snitch of the Jays!" replied Marv the thug.

"You're getting life for that assault and rape of a minor, no question about that. But getting to a Cube all depends on you, Marv. I mean we can hold you indefinitely in the cells here. How long do you think you can take it, Marv? Those guards make the day fun for ya? I'm sure I can have a word with them if accommodations aren't up to standards."

"Please no fucking more man, please. Please don't send me back!"

The room was poorly lit, a solitary florescent light flickered every so often as an indication that it was soon to burn out. The walls were worn and cracked, desperately in need of a paint job and plaster. There streaks of blood that stained parts of the wall; evidence of past interrogations that had escalated. One wall had two way mirror that prevented the occupants from seeing the outside, but those outside could witness what transpired. There were two chairs and a table in the room. In the first chair sat Marv, he rested his elbows on the edge if the table and nervously clenched his cuffed hands together. To his opposite sat Roebuck; leaning back in his chair.

Marv was battered and bloodied. It had only been an hour since a medic had finally rendered medical treatment. The entire day Marv was at the mercy of the sadistic auxiliaries. The auxiliaries had rendered beating after beating on the helpless captive. The impact with the window had implanted fragments of glass into Marv's eyes. The delayed and outright inadequate medical treatment meant there was no hope of saving his vision. The thug sat blindly in the room, terrified.

"We got a call that led us to you," started Roebuck. "Nobody in the Bottom calls the Judges. It got me thinking, a kid calls the Judges because he doesn't know better, because there aren't parents to tell him not to. Could be the kid panicked? But I think there's more to it. Something you know that you aren't sharing."

"A doctor," replied the distressed thug. "You get me checked by a real doctor and your guarantee of a Cube today?"

"You automatically are examined by a doctor Iso-Cube intake. I can have you there in an hour."

"Ok…Ok. Now I ain't a snitch for this?"

"You aren't a snitch, Marv."

There was a long pause before a response. Marv sat nervously in the chair and pondered the offer. It could all be over if he told the Judge what he knew. He was privy to an operation that would not tolerate an informant, but he could not go back to the holding cell. The auxiliaries would ensure an unpleasant stay.

"There's a safehouse a street over from where we was," said an anxious Marv. "That's where we were keeping the girl and the others."

"Others?" questioned Roebuck.

"The muties. All trying to come in for a better life. We smuggle them in from the Cursed Earth and force them to work in drug hustlin' or whorin' to pay their passage. When the muties ain't at working we keep 'em locked up at the safehouse. Me and the boys was bored one night, so we take the girl out for a bit o' fun. We'd done it in the past. But she got loose and was runnin' that's when you got there."

"You were keeping her brother? A boy, maybe five or six?"

"They was some young juves among them, but I had no idea she had a brother."

"How would he have access to a phone? This was called in. Said you were 'hurting his sister'."

"Ticks, one o' the boys, lost his phone the other day. Dunno, maybe the juve took it?"

"This safehouse have an address?"

"I...ugh…dunno. I forget it."

The lie was poorly executed and Roebuck could tell. Marv was trying to avoid the question. He was clearly more afraid of the members of this trafficking ring than the auxiliaries. That did not suit Roebuck. The tables would have to be shifted. Roebuck was already running late to the beginning of the shift. Watch Commander Rohan had afforded the Judge a half hour at the most to obtain any information, but Roebuck was needed on the streets.

"I cannot guarantee a deal unless you tell me, Marv," snapped Roebuck. "If you need more time to consider how this will play out, I can always put you back into holding until you're ready?"

"No…no. You win," Marv said, defeated. "Where 'J' Ave intersects Burnis, there's this old I guess it was a pharmacy. The muties are on the upper three floors."

Roebuck grinned at the blind thug, in an apparently mocking fashion. The Judge stood up and exited the interrogation room. It was time to get the motor pool where Jenner was waiting in the cruiser. The statement obtained, it appeared Marv was involved in one of the many trafficking operations in the Sector. The isolated nature of the Northwest Hab Zone made it an ideal entry for the migrant aliens. Using the remote Sectors as a staging area, the traffickers could smuggle the mutants throughout the City. It never ended well for the muties.

000

Bowery Bottom

2030 hours:

Jenner was in the driver's seat and peered anxiously at the target building. Roebuck was in the passenger seat. He gripped the Tactical M-23 Express Shotgun and readied for action. Kemper and Booker had been enlisted in this effort. Their cruiser was only a few minutes away and, upon arrival, would take up a position on the opposite end of the street. At the appointed time, both vehicles would converge on the target building at the same moment. The expectation of a close quarters engagement in the old building meant the choice of the Express Shotgun was more prudent over the unwieldy M-88.

"We're pulling in now," said Kemper over the radio. "In position."

Their cruiser pulled onto the street with the headlights out. The plan was to move in fast to catch the traffickers off their guard. Then move in hard to subdue the perpetrators. It had been agreed on beforehand that there would be no arrests. They would not be taking in any traffickers alive. With the building cleared, the Judges would divide any cash or drugs they found amongst the criminals. That was the deal made to get Kemper and Booker involved.

"Alright, let go," Roebuck signaled to all.

Both cruisers converged on the intersection where the target building stood. The headlights on the vehicles were switched off, as were the lights and sirens. Using the night vision features in the helmet, Jenner effectively steered the cruiser. In a matter of seconds, the Judges were on the scene.

Roebuck and Jenner leapt out of their cruiser, weapons drawn. Kemper and Booker followed behind. There was no resistance at the door, but the Judges were not lured in by any false notions of security. Roebuck kicked open the particle board covered door. The four Judges stepped through and were in the entrance of the old shop. They pointed their weapons in a tactical manner; in search of any hostiles. The building was quiet.

The Judges divided into two teams of two, the partners together naturally. They would begin a floor by floor sweep of the building. They located a staircase that accessed the upper floors through a storeroom in the rear of the pharmacy. Roebuck creped silently up the stairs, his M-23 raised and ready to fire. Jenner was following closely behind. The old wooden steps creaked with the occasional heavy foot. They had to tread lightly, lest they alert anyone to their intrusion.

The upstairs was dark and depressing. The wallpaper was stained a musty, discolored brown, and was torn clear off in places. Water collected in small pools on the ground, no telling how that was managed. The trash was littered haphazardly in the hallway; sanitation seemed a low priority. Darkness enveloped the interior of the corridor. The Judges had to rely on the night vision function on their helmet visors in order to see.

A brief scan with the visor's infrared and Roebuck did not detect any signs of life. Ahead, there was a large door that looked reinforced with steel plates and padlocks. The bolts appeared to be unlocked and the door was slightly ajar. Roebuck drew closer. The M-23 still raised. Jenner patted him on the shoulder; indicating she was ready to breach the room. After a nod of the head, Roebuck stormed in. The double doors flung open, but there was no one in the room.

The scene was horrific. The room was fairly large, perhaps an upstairs storeroom at one point. It was the perfect space for the traffickers to cram forty mutant men, women, and children. The bodies of the mutants were all piled, one on top of the other. The evidence suggested they had all been mown down in a hail of automatic weapons fire. The traffickers were clearing up any trace of their involvement after their compatriot, Marv, had been arrested. The room stunk of death. The blood of the victims spattered onto the walls and every surface.

The conditions of the room had been appalling even before this mass execution. Forty, by a conservative estimate, mutants inhabited a space unsuited for the capacity. The hammocks slung from the ceiling attested to the cramped conditions. There was only a tiny bucket in the corner of the room that served as the waste facility.

Roebuck tried to walk through the room. It was a vain attempt to check for any survivors. A crunch under his boot caught his attention. He lifted his foot and noticed he had inadvertently crushed Meg-cell, most likely the one that the boy made the call. It was the call that brought Roebuck and Jenner into this nightmare. Roebuck figured the muties, though they had a phone, would never call the Judges for help. If the Judges came, the muties would face expulsion back into the wastes. Perhaps this hell of squalor was preferable to life in the Cursed Earth.

Jenner was beside herself with shock. She had seen the ugliness of the Bottom. Kemper rushed up the stairs. The sweep of the building had been completed and he came to pass that information to Roebuck and Jenner.

"Building is secure, gonn…" Kemper gasped at the butchery.

He was young and still acclimating to the life of a Street Judge, the brutal, dehumanizing life, but he was not there yet. Jenner could only gaze into the room. Kemper had to turn away and vomit into the hallway. The sight of the children among the dead was too overwhelming.

Roebuck scanned the dead and looked among their faces. The faces of the children, many with their eyes still opened and in panic, stared back at the Judge. For a moment, Roebuck believed he could hear their screams, actual bloodcurdling screams. He was at a point where it was tough to disseminate between realities. Was it another one of his hallucinations?

"Kemper, why don't you get to Booker," said Roebuck, trying to distract the sickened Kemper. "Tell him we have forty plus dead. Get a message to Control requesting additional helmets down here. You got it?"

Jenner had placed a hand on the doorframe in order to keep herself upright. Kemper could no longer look into the room. He did nod to acknowledge Roebuck, and set off to locate Booker. Roebuck stepped over the bodies to get to Jenner. He occasionally had to walk on the deceased themselves, as there were no places to reach the floor. The violent bullet wounds that tore through the bodies of the mutants left behind pools of blood. By the time Roebuck had made his way to Jenner, his boots were soaked red.

"Hey, you ok," Roebuck said, as he placed his hands on Jenner's arms.

"I've seen worse. Don't like seeing it often," responded Jenner. "Christ Roe, what the fuck is this?"

For some reason, Roebuck felt immune to the carnage. He felt like what little humanity he had left was slowly slipping away.

"The brother must've been among them," said Roebuck. "Of the girl we brought to Sector General."

"She's still in a coma?" asked Jenner

"I'm guessing I should be the one to tell her?"

"You?…Don't make me laugh Roe. This needs a woman's touch, and you're way too direct."

A brief laugh shared between the two Judges provided a momentary solace from what they had witnessed. They decided it was best to head outside and await the backup. The traffickers had vacated the safe house and had taken any potential spoils. That fact had Booker upset. Kemper was a bit too distracted and overcome with nausea to care. The youngest Judge stood with his hand bracing himself against the door of his cruiser while he continued to vomit profusely. Booker, meanwhile, had taken to ransacking the old pharmacy under the guise of an official judicial search. In reality, he was in search of any valuables to pocket.

The lights of the Justice Department vehicles could be seen reflecting in the distance, as a convoy approached. Upon it drawing near, there were four cruisers and an armored wagon escorting a convoy of meat-wagons. A discovery like this, the Judges were not taking any chances, opting to arrive in force. There were no forensic teks sent. It seemed a waste of Department resources. The rest of the night was dedicated to hauling the bodies into the meat-wagons.

000

Sector House 301:

Marv the Thug nervously swayed, as the doors to the lift closed. He was handcuffed with his hands behind his back. A single auxiliary stood to Marv's left and held the prisoner with a strong grip. The injuries sustained during the arrest and lack of medical treatment left Marv completely blind. The only thing he knew was the plea arrangement made by Roebuck seemed to be in progress.

The auxiliary selected the button for the motor pool level. There, a pat-wagon would be available to transport Marv to the Sector's Iso-Cube facility and where his incarceration would commence. The lift grumbled along down its guide rails. Cut corners and a construction contract awarded to the lowest bidder meant the lift was never built to run smoothly, but it worked at least. The chime of the lift sounded, but it was not the level of the motor pool.

The unscheduled stop was made by someone calling the elevator, an unremarkable occurrence. The floor was only a few levels from the lobby and vacant. It was a mess of building materials and discarded tools. The plan called to have it serve as a technology center. The contract had come under dispute regarding overages, or some matter, and work on this level came to a halt.

The elevator doors opened and a figure stood; seemingly ready to board. The auxiliary had a grip of the Thug with his right hand, while he flipped through social media pages on the Megphone in his left. He was distracted. Marv, being blind, could not see the figure raise a pistol.

The pistol was a simple 9mm handgun with a suppressor affixed to the end of the barrel. Nobody heard the gun, as the figure shot the auxiliary first and then turned to Marv. Marv felt the grip of the auxiliary loosen; unsure why. He did not feel the bullet enter his skull, as he was dead before he hit the ground.

000

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" Roebuck slammed a fist down onto Rohan's desk. "What kind of fucking Sector House is this!"

"You insolent fuck," Rohan stood up and lashed out. "How dare you! Who do you think you are?"

Roebuck was incensed. On the return to the Sector House, he had learned that his witness, along with an auxiliary, had been murdered. It infuriated Roebuck, as the killing took place right under their noses. The whole situation reeked of corruption. It had to be an inside job. There was simply no other way to gain access into the Sector House. To make matters worse, the perpetrator had no qualms over shooting a Department employee.

"You have balls, Roebuck," snarled Rohan. "I know who you are, what you've done. You're crooked, you've taken money, fucked girls on the side; that drug habit of yours. So cut the 'holier than thou' shit, you're no better than the rest of us in the Pit."

The pair of them, Roebuck and Rohan, were in the midst of heated exchange in the Watch Commander's office. Rohan was an inept and bitter woman. She was apathetic for the role and despised her insubordinate Judges. There was no positive leadership under this Watch Commander, only harsh criticism. Roebuck wondered how much Rohan knew and where she learned it.

"…And then there's that shit you pulled at the hospital!" Rohan continued. "You barge in there and threaten a doctor for a mutie girl?"

"She was a victim, she had been raped," Roebuck defended his action. "She is also a key witness in this trafficking case."

"Well she happens to be a mutie and here illegally. The Sector Chief had lively phone call from the director over at Sector General about you and what to do with the girl. Being she's here undocumented and without med insurance, she's eating up a lot of funding the hospital doesn't have. Since she still hasn't emerged from her coma, hospital is going to pull the life-support in two days when the holding statute runs out."

"They can't fucking do that. She's a victim. Law says she has a right to treatment."

"Cits have rights to treatment. She's an illegal; a mutie. Two days and we throw her body into the waste. Now, get the fuck out of my office!"

000

Bowery Bottom, Sector 301

0200 hours:

"I'm sorry about the girl, Roe," said Jenner, in an attempt at sympathy. "What's a mutie life worth among the rest of these creeps."

Their cruiser was parked in the usual spot, the alley right across from the Arcade. The nightly routine of depravity was underway. The trogs shuffled about in search of drugs and sex. Roebuck was silent. He ran the events through his head. The chastisement from Rohan only fueled his obsession about the traffickers and the girl. There was something about them that consumed Roebuck. It was as if this were a shot at redemption; an opportunity to set things right with those he blamed himself for failing.

The rear passenger door to the cruiser opened from the outside. A figured climbed into the backseat. The arrival startled Jenner in the passenger seat. She grabbed for her lawgiver. Roebuck was expecting the arrival, for it was he who summoned the guest. Despite having a severe limp and aided by a cane, Psi-Judge was able to approach this far unnoticed. He was in his late twenties and dressed in plainclothes among the trogs, with a long overjack covering.

"What a delightful, up and coming neighborhood," mused the Psi.

"It's ok Jenner," said Roebuck, as he placed a hand on Jenner's drawn lawgiver. "This is Cole Merrimack, Psi-Division."

"Christ, a Psi!" exclaimed Jenner. "Haven't seen one of them since Academy."

"In the flesh my dear," flirted Merrimack. "My what a lovely one you've been partnered with, Freddy."

"Cut the shit Merrimack," snarled Roebuck. "What were you able to find?"

Merrimack pulled a manila envelope from an interior pocket of his overjack. He passed it in between the bars and into Roebuck's grasp. Roebuck opened the envelope and sifted through the contents. Jenner looked on curiosity. Inside, there were several printed out pictures, a few parchments of notes, and a datadisk. The datadisk was a digital backup of the material notations. There was also a composite sketch of heavyset, derelict man.

"I got to your perp, Marv," began Merrimack. "Before they dumped his body into Resyk. Pulled what I could from what was left of his mind, that bullet did number. I patched together events as best as I could. It's all there."

"So what am I looking at?" questioned Roebuck.

"I had a flash of an apartment somewhere down here. Couldn't get you an address. The sketch is of someone important, a ringleader perhaps. He and his confederates had a lot of dealings at that apartment. From what I could tell, he's the one in charge of smuggling in the muties and then he sells them to pimps, cartels, gangs, clans throughout the City."

"How do we find him without an address?"

"You could ask him, he's right over there," Merrimack pointed across the street.

An old roadster pulled up to the front of the Arcade. This was the first vehicle, other than theirs, to pass by on the street that evening. The trio observed the driver to be a young woman, maybe seventeen or eighteen. A fat creep, the one at which Merrimack pointed and pictured in the composite, wandered out from a café in the neon lit building. The creep was dressed in stretched out track trousers and a stained beater shirt. His hair was greasy, as was his moustache. The fat creep dashed to the driver's door of the old roadster; yelling the entire time. The girl inside rolled down her window and began to shout back.

"This trafficking ring goes pretty high," Merrimack cautioned. "The fat creep is someone who'll be missed. Someone let someone into the Sector House to bump off Marv. My advice would be to make it extrajudicial; a gangland hit. But it's up to you. See you on the streets, Freddy."

Upon completion, Merrimack discreetly exited the rear seat of the cruiser. The limping Psi, with aid of his cane, soon disappeared into the steam plumes that blanketed the street. Jenner and Roebuck had their eyes glued to the scene; playing more the voyeur than the law officer. The confrontation began to escalate. The Judges were near enough to hear the shouts, but could not make out the exact words. The girl opened the door of the car and stepped out.

The fat creep continued his verbal attack. It seemed to overwhelm the girl, as she became more passive. Finally, the fat creep raised a hand and slapped the girl. The blow was hard enough that it caused the girl to turn and slightly lose her footing. She had to brace herself against the hood of the roadster to keep from falling to the ground.

"So you're buddies with a Psi?" asked Jenner.

"Not friends," grunted Roebuck. "Owed me a favor after manipulating my brain to help his investigation."

"Should I ask?"

"Better you don't."

"Right…How do you want to play this?

"We can't outright pick him up. If he is connected, word would make it back to the Sector House. They must have someone on the payroll."

"Can't really trust anyone in this Sector."

"You trust me?" asked Roebuck.

"Nah, I just stick with you for the sex," Jenner teased.

Roebuck had his gaze transfixed on the fat creep. The fact this fat creep was assaulting the girl in the car brought his blood to rage. He so desperately wanted to walk across the street and put a bullet into the creep's head. The warning from Merrimack was the only thing that prevented such action. The creep provided a service to an illicit and in demand industry. Criminals all over the City employed illegal mutants, essentially as slave labor. The mutants could not object to their treatment. From there, Roebuck devised a plan to return and obtain what he needed. It would have to be in plainclothes, so as not to draw attention.

It was foolproof in Roebuck's mind, but Roebuck's mind was such a fragile thing. Across the street, the Judges continued to observe the fat creep's exchange with the girl. For the moment, in Roebuck's eyes, he saw Lana. The fat creep raised another hand and struck Lana, not the girl. It was another one of his hallucinations, brought on by his excessive synti-caine usage. It was Lana being struck by that fat creep. She turned to Roebuck and looked him in the eye. The expression on Lana's face was a genuine plea for help. The same look she gave him right before she was executed. Roebuck could not sit by and watch. He had to act.

Roebuck became incensed. He grabbed his helmet from the dash and went to put it on. Jenner saw the look in Roebuck's eyes; his determination.

"NO!" Jenner said in a commanding tone.

She tried to grab Roebuck by his vest, but he slipped from her grasp. Roebuck ignored the shouts from Jenner, as she ordered him to stop and return to the vehicle. He swiftly crossed the street that separated him from the fat creep. With the daystick in hand, Roebuck approached the creep who stood threatening the vision of Lana.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" Roebuck shouted to the creep.

The fat creep was taken completely by surprise. He was a man of importance on this corner, and was not used to being addressed in such a manner. The sight of Judge approaching with a daystick drawn alarmed the fat creep. The creep turned and ran down a flight a stairs that led underneath the building. Roebuck followed the creep.

The stairs led to the Arcade's underground shopplex. The creep took off down the corridor that was flanked in either side by various shops. The grotesque neon lighting on the shopplex illuminated the path the fat creep took on his flight from Judge Roebuck. Roebuck, being considerably more physically fit, was easily able to overtake the creep after a short pursuit. When he was within an arm's length of the creep, Roebuck lunged forward and tackled the man. Roebuck brought the creep to ground, and in doing so, he intentionally smashed the man's face into the hard tile floor. The impact broke the creep's nose and knocked out a front tooth. Roebuck placed his knee into the creep's back to keep him under control. He rifled through the creep's pockets and seized the man's wallet.

"Heya fuck you Judge!" the fat creep replied, as he spit a tooth from his mouth.

Roebuck slammed the creep's face into the ground again, aggravating the already broken noise. The blood from the broken nose ran down the creep's face. The tiles became covered in gore. It was brutality, pure and simple. Roebuck had no words for the creep, only rage.

"Fuck you Judge," the creep said. "You just made the worst mistake of your life. You're dead!"

At that, Roebuck once again slammed the creep's face into the tile. He grabbed a set of flex cuffs from his belt and restrained the creep. Jenner, by now, had caught up to Roebuck. She had the M-88 Assault Rifle in hand and a nervous look on her face. Her exit had been so quick she had left her helmet in the vehicle.

"Roebuck," Jenner said. "Leave him! We need to get out of here."

"What the fuck is the matter with you?" Roebuck said, dismissively.

A group of trogs began to form around the scene; curious about the excitement. Jenner raised the M-88 and pointed it at the few individuals. Their encroachment was too close for comfort.

"Roebuck, we have hostiles!" Jenner shouted.

A burst of automatic weapons fire rang out. An onlooker fell to the ground dead. A round had grazed the fat creep's right shoulder. The onlookers screamed and tried to flee in every direction. The creep let out a loud yelp from the wound. Roebuck had released his grasp of the fat creep, who took the opportunity to run. The Judges could not determine the shooter's identity. The shots came from a corner just ahead of their location. Jenner had her assault rifle already raised and trained it on the shooter. She opened up with a small automatic burst. The unseen shooter held their fire, as Jenner had driven them into cover.

Roebuck felt a hand smack his shoulder. It was Jenner, who screamed at him to run. He followed her orders and fell back to a corner just next to the stairs. Then, Roebuck held up his lawgiver and fired several rounds toward the shooter's position. Jenner sought the opportunity to make her exit. They both advanced nervously up the stairs.

The familiar siren of the Justice Department wailed, as the other cruiser, on patrol in the Bottom, rushed to the scene. Jenner put in a call for help right before she pursued Roebuck. Luckily, Kemper and Booker were patrolling only a few blocks away. The cruiser stopped right in front of the Arcade. The Judges rushed out of the vehicle; each with an assault rifle and shotgun at the ready. Jenner and Roebuck staggered out onto the street and were relieved to see the others.

Jenner was furious at the stunt Roebuck had just pulled. She wanted a word with her patrol partner about his impulsiveness, but his attention was elsewhere. Roebuck had his back turned to Jenner. He walked over to where the girl, who he mistook as Lana, had been. The car she drove was gone, only thing left were the tire tracks. At the sound of gunfire, the girl had decided it was best to drive off, as quickly as possible.

"What the fuck was that about!?" Jenner demanded; interrupting Roebuck's detachment.

There was no response from Roebuck, as he stared off into the distant abyss of the Bottom's labyrinth. It had seemed so real. Lana had been there and attacked by the fat creep. The fat creep was still on the loose. Roebuck held up his lawgiver and set about returning to shopplex; intent on collecting the creep. It took a combined effort from Jenner, Kemper, and Booker to intercept Roebuck.

"What the hell is wrong with this guy!?" shouted Kemper.

"Shut the fuck up kid," replied Booker, as he aided in the struggle. "Just get him into the cruiser!"

"Roebuck, fucking listen to me!" pleaded Jenner. "Calm the fuck down! We're trying to get you out of here."

The scene around Judge Roebuck faded to obscurity. The bright neon of the Arcade and the dim street lamps mixed into a blurred contrast. It was all spinning around his head; Lana, the fat creep, the bodies, the drugs, Jenner, and the dead. Roebuck was unconscious when the three other Judges loaded him into the back of Jenner's cruiser. He was easier to deal with in that state. They set his comatose body across the back seat.

Kemper had raced back to his cruiser, so he could pick up Booker. Booker was assisting Jenner in getting Roebuck situated. Jenner was unsure what to do about her partner. He seemed like another reject Judge sent to 301. While good in bed and willing to partake in banned substances, he recently shifted his entire attitude. The room full of dead mutants consumed him, as did the girl. Now, they were holding clandestine meeting with Psi Judges in dark alleys and whatever it was that Roebuck just attempted. There was something amiss. Booker gave a friendly nod to Jenner, a reassurance.

"Usual geek, same place," Booker said, casually.

Jenner acknowledged the words. She knew what he meant, where to take Roebuck in this state.

000

McNalley Ave., Sector 301

0700 hours:

The building was dirty and decrepit, like everything else in the Sector. It was a small four story structure that predated the war and stood above ground. In the shadow of the nearby massive Hayshed Hills Block, it was out of the way and overlooked. The proprietor was a doctor; "was" as in she had her medical license revoked after her unwise involvement in an insurance racket. She still possessed the all the knowledge and ability to practice medicine, the Law simply said she technically could not. It was of no consequence, as she was able to keep the private practice afloat by taking exclusive clients. Her patients were the ones who could not easily walk into a hospital. They were the usual criminal element, the gangbangers, organized mobsters, affluent mutants, and even Judges who needed medical help on discreet issues. As long as the patient paid in cash, the doctor did not ask questions. The Judges were a well treated and particular clientele; coming to her for addiction treatment injections, or unauthorized prescriptions.

Jenner sat nervously in an unmarked cruiser across the street. After leaving Roebuck in the care of the doctor, she had to return the patrol cruiser for the Bottom's day shift Judges. Once they took the cruiser, Jenner signed out the unmarked cruiser in order to return for her partner. This unmarked cruiser was one set aside, in an off the record agreement amongst the Judges, for any individual to borrow for any reason, no questions asked.

Booker was seated in the passenger's seat. He had agreed to come with Jenner, in the event Roebuck got out of hand, or judicially unfriendly individuals tried to make a fuss. They were both dressed in plainclothes. The rain was falling hard; it was always falling in the hab-zone. Jenner kept an eye on the facility, on Roebuck. Roebuck's Judicial effects were strew on the backseat, his lawgiver, flak jacket, and utility belt. He was left with the doctor only wearing his black pants and sleeveless undershirt; less to identify him as a Judge.

"So what were you able to find out about Roebuck?" inquired Jenner.

"Rohan hates him and has good reason too," replied Booker.

"Rohan hates everyone and everyone hates her."

"No, this is different. Rohan used to be partners with and was still good friends with Roebuck's old Watch Commander, back in 288. Guy's name was O'Brien, killed in a raid on some Democrats, official report says."

Jenner paused to think for a moment. She knew Roebuck would have to be involved in something disreputable to merit the transfer to 301. For until now, she assumed it was his drug usage. Perhaps in a situation similar to Booker's, Roebuck had tested positive on a random drug screening and was exiled to 301, as punishment.

"The guy's on a first name basis with Psi-Division," said Jenner. "The official report could mean anything when those people get involved."

"I couldn't get a source, it's all speculation," started Booker. "There's a rumor going around that Roebuck killed his Watch Commander. Apparently, Roebuck was getting cozy with a cit and O'Brien tried to break them up. And when I mean break them up, O'Brien raped and murdered the girl, and made Roebuck watch the entire thing. The girl, word is, meant a lot to your buddy Roebuck and he killed O'Brien out of rage right then and there."

"No fucking way! Do you really believe that?"

"Like you said, when Psi-Division is involved, the truth could be anything…"

000

The interior of the examination room was a juxtaposition of dilapidation and the need to maintain a sanitized environment. The walls were covered in plastic, in the areas too dirty to adequately clean. The medical equipment was aged and outdated; the only machines an unlicensed doctor could obtain. Sick patients were bad for business, so every effort was taken to disinfect the practice.

Roebuck saw the room through a haze. His consciousness slowly regained. In his left arm he felt a pinch. There was a needle injected into a predominant vein. Through the needle, a tube pumped a translucent liquid from an intravenous bag. The liquid was a powerful detoxification to purge narcotics. It was Jenner who brought Roebuck to the doctor and paid for this treatment. She needed him to sober up. The drugs had pushed him too far. After the incident Jenner thought it best he received a detoxification.

The chair was set in a reclined position. The concoction flowed down from the elevated intravenous bag. Roebuck felt sick to his stomach, a side effect of the treatment. He knew where he was and surmised how he ended up here. His uniform jacket and flak vest were gone, along with his weapon and utility belt. All that remained were the uniform pants he wore and his sleeveless undershirt. Jenner had told him about this place. It was the discreet medical clinic.

There was some sense of urgency that manifested inside of Roebuck's head. He could not place the source. It was an overwhelming feeling; he had to leave. Roebuck sat up in the chair and felt the pinch of the needle. The intravenous tube pulled back with some resistance. Grasping the end of the needle, Roebuck pulled the thin spear from his vein. The slow withdraw caused an uncomfortable burn, as the needle inched its way out. The detoxification fluid had yet to fully work its way through Roebuck's system and he still felt the faint buzz of the synti-caine.

The doctor had her attention elsewhere; stitching up a badly beaten mob enforcer. She was oblivious to Roebuck's departure from the examination room and his movement toward the rear door. Jenner and Booker had their focus on the main entrance to the clinic. They too failed to notice Roebuck exit the facility via the back alley.

The air had a harsh chill to it. It was winter, after all, and the location of the Northwest Hab Zone invited colder weather at this time of year. Despite the nuclear devastation of the planet, it was somehow still cold in this part of what was left of America. Roebuck stepped out into the alleyway and immediately felt the temperature shift. The cold caused Roebuck some discomfort, as he had only a sleeveless undershirt to cover his upper body. Roebuck staggered through the alley; tripping over a splintered pallet. A seated homeless dreg looked up at the swaying Roebuck, as the bum took a drink from his bottle of synti-malt.

The alleyway shifted and turned from corner to the next. A complex maze defined by the towering structures on either side. Eventually, Roebuck made his way to car lot that was adjacent to an empty street. The morning sun shone down on the pavement and brightened the area. The cold had Roebuck, at this point, shivering from its piercing effect. A particular roadster caught Roebuck's eye. It was not the fanciest roadster on the lot, its paint was worn and chipped in places, but it had an occupant in the driver's seat. The driver was nodding his head along to a loud, rhythmic song; not paying attention to his surroundings.

Roebuck brazenly walked the driver's door and pulled it opened. Luckily, the driver had left it unlocked. The driver was taken entirely by surprise, as Roebuck seized the man by the shirt collar. The Judge pulled the driver from the car and hurled him to the ground. In an abrupt maneuver, Roebuck took his place in the driver's seat, slammed the door shut, and locked it. The bewildered driver was frantically left banging on the windows; ignominiously evicted from his own vehicle. Roebuck shifted the vehicle into drive. The hapless vehicle owner left to watch his roadster speed off. There was a leather jacket folded on the passenger's seat. It looked to be about Roebuck's size.

000

Bowery Bottom, Sector 301

1300 hours:

Day or night, it made no difference. The sunlight never permeated the street, never made its way to the Bowery Bottom. It was always shrouded in darkness. The sins of the trogs concealed from the light and the world above. The artificial glow of the lamplights and neon signs offered the only bit of luminosity.

Roebuck sat in his acquired roadster at an empty intersection. The fusion motor idled and gave off a low hum. He had put on the leather jacket he found on the passenger's seat. The roadster's climate controls were inoperable, so the jacket was a necessity for warmth. One item he still had in his possession was the wallet of the fat creep; tucked into his boot when it was seized. It had been overlooked when Roebuck was deposited at the clinic.

The wallet's useless contents were emptied onto the passenger seat; the crumpled receipts and unopened condoms. Roebuck held up the creep's license. Gurt Tunley the name on the driver's license read. The issue date was 2059, predating the Atomic War by almost a decade. It contained an address, 4819 Ryder Blvd, apartment 5B. The roadster sat at the intersection of Ryder and Selford. Here was one of the few remaining street signs that still stood.

A trog staggered about the street and made for the roadster. Roebuck was an obvious mark, as he was in the only roadster on the street. The confrontation he wished to avoid, but it seemed the approaching trog was going to force an interaction. The calm was suddenly interrupted by a knock on the car window. It was the disheveled trog with dilated eyes and an indolent face.

"Yo geek, looking to score some ess? Some caine?" the trog said, clearly under the effect of narcotics. "I can do two for twenty or five for forty?"

Roebuck was not in the mood to deal with the interruption. There was one noticeable item on the trog's person. The trog had a Micro-Mac 77 submachine pistol tucked into the waistband of his rumpled trousers. Roebuck's lawgiver had been taken by Jenner when he was deposited at the clinic; he needed a weapon.

The trog swayed and leaned against the side of the roadster for support. The effect of narcotic usage had disrupted his balance. Roebuck saw his opportunity and knew the trog was in no state to react. A grin on his face, the Judge brazenly reached a hand out and seized the grip of the Micro-Mac 77. The trog was too slow to react, as anticipated. Roebuck pulled the submachine pistol from the trog's waistband.

The weapon was now solely in the possession of Roebuck. The trog, though under the influence of narcotics, was cognizant enough to realize the severity of the situation. He slowly began to back away from the roadster. Roebuck pulled the bolt back on the submachine pistol to inspect the receiver. He saw a round extract from the magazine and load into the chamber. Satisfied, he then opened the door of the roadster and stepped out.

The trog had a panicked expression on his face. In his fright, the trog tripped over his own feet and fell onto his back. He recoiled in terror; expecting the killing blow at any moment. Roebuck ignored the pitiful trog and made toward the row house listed as the fat creep's address.

000

"What the fuck do you mean his isn't here!?" shouted an exasperated Jenner. "You just let him get up and walk out!?"

"Oh spare me the accusations," replied the callous doctor. "I patch people up, I don't babysit them. If you wanted him to stay put, you should've taken him to the Sector House. Oh wait, he was tripping high on drugs, so you couldn't."

Jenner was ready to knock the smug doctor square in the jaw, but decided against it. There should have been someone in the room to watch Roebuck. Logistically, returning the car and having to come back, things just did not work out that way. She turned and stormed out of the front of the clinic. In some way she was at fault. She had been watching the building and failed to notice Roebuck leave.

Booker was waiting in the unmarked loaner. Jenner dashed through the downpour of rain and jumped into the front seat.

"How's our boy?" asked Booker.

"Gone," replied Jenner. "Took off out of the back entrance. Doctor didn't see a thing."

"Jovis Grud! What the fuck? He's off his shit and running loose. He could be anywhere."

"Will you shut and let me think!"

Jenner pressed her forehead down into the steering wheel. She tried to fathom all of the places where Roebuck could have gone. Then she realized there was only one person he sought. The fat creep in the Bowery Bottom, Roebuck would be tracking him down.

"Fuck me," Jenner said, as she sped off in the loaner.

000

The front door to the row house opened with an effortless push. The lock had long been smashed apart and never replaced. There were several apartments contained within this structure and accessible through this entrance. The walls were covered in grime and blacked from wear. The floor was trampled over and creaked under every booted step.

The Micro-Mac 77 was held at his side, as Roebuck slowly ascended the zigzag staircase. An old address placard in the entryway indicated the creep's apartment was on the top level. There was trash piled in heaps outside in the hallways. At one point, Roebuck had to step over a vagrant asleep on a flight of stairs. At the fifth level, Roebuck arrived at apartment 5B.

Roebuck noticed the door was secured with a modern electronic personal identification locks. It was a top of the line model. These could be activated by either a key card, or pressing the occupant's thumb to a built in scanner. The lock seemed out of place with the antiquated surroundings. It was apparent the fat creep valued his security. The only drawback to this type of lock was the fact Roebuck had a key card. All of the electronic locks were required by law to allow access to Justice Department personnel in the event of an emergency or random crime sweep. This was a fact not well known to the general public. Roebuck pulled his Judge's identification from his pocket and scanned the quick response code. This was one item of Judicial paraphernalia Jenner had missed. The screen on the lock flashed the "Judicial Override" message and unlocked.

The interior was dirty; the age of the building was reflected by the dilapidation of the walls and disrepair of the fixtures. A pile of unwashed dishes was stacked high in the sink. Most likely, the sink no longer worked. Roebuck turned on the lights. A single florescent tube on the ceiling flickered and illuminated the apartment in a yellow haze. It was most perplexing to Roebuck that florescent tubes were still available and utilized. He approached the kitchen counter, the first obstacle he encountered in the apartment. The counter was completely covered by wrapped packages. They were so numerous that some had to be stacked on the floor.

Roebuck cautiously opened one of the packages. It contained about a hundred vials of liquid syntioum, the hallucinogenic controlled substance referred to as "ess" on the street. It seemed the fat creep and his group was into more than just human trafficking. They had a tidy narcotics operation set up, as well. Roebuck figured that the Arcade was where most transactions were made. It would explain why the fat creep frequented the location.

There was also a Snapro Camera on the counter. Out of curiosity, Roebuck picked it up went through the images. The images were photographed over the course of time; self shots taken by the fat creep engaging in a sexual liaison with multiple partners. They were his trophies of his deplorable achievements. One image brought Roebuck to a rage.

The young girl, he and Jenner rescued, the girl who clung to life at the hospital, was featured on the electronic screen of the Snapro. It was a disgusting image of the fat creep having his way with the young girl. In a fit of anger, Roebuck threw the camera to the ground. The Snapro broke into several pieces.

While the camera disintegrated on contact, the sound of the door clicking open could be heard. Roebuck turned his attention to the disturbance. The fat creep entered the apartment; returning home holding a girl by the wrist and a wounded arm in a sling. It was the same girl from the night prior, the girl who reminded the Judge of Lana.

The fat creep was startled to see the intruder in the apartment. Roebuck was equally surprised. The Judge raised the Micro-Mac 77 and pointed it toward the creep. Thinking quickly, the fat creep pulled the girl in front of himself to create a human shield. Roebuck hesitated, as he could not get a clear shot. It was an opportunity the creep exploited. From a holster concealed under his track jacket, the fat creep pulled a large caliber pistol and fired.

The shot was fired hastily, but found a target. The bullet struck Roebuck in his right thigh. The creep threw the girl forward and dashed down the flight of stairs. Roebuck struggled to maintain his balance. The pain from his leg was excruciating. The image of the young girl on the camera flashed through his head. The crime was unforgivable and the fat creep had to answer. It caused a surge of adrenaline to overtake Roebuck; forcing him on a righteous path. Roebuck limped toward the door in pursuit.

The fat creep was down a flight of stairs on a landing, when he turned to see his pursuer. The fire burned in Roebuck's eyes. The Judge raised the machine pistol and fired an automatic burst. Luck was still on the side of the fat creep, who threw himself down the next flight. The creep tumbled down the stairs; jostling over every step. The maneuver had kept him safe from Roebuck's burst. In the fall, the fat creep had managed to break his left ankle. He discovered the injury upon reaching the next landing and finding he was unable to stand easily. The injury to his shoulder made it near impossible to break the fall.

The blood was seeping from the wound on Roebuck's leg. The pain increased with every step Roebuck took on the stairs. He had to place a hand on the hole in his thigh to stem the bleeding. Being his right leg it required his right hand; he had transfer the submachine pistol to his non-dominant left. The accuracy would be decreased.

The fat creep was on his hands and knees; trying to recover from the fall. He heard Roebuck lumber down each step, an ominous thud that drew nearer. The creep held up his pistol and readied to fire. The shadow of his pursuer came into view, reflected by a dim hallway light. It was enough to frighten the fat creep into firing. The fat creep unloaded his weapon at the phantom; expending the entire magazine. The slide of the pistol locked back after the last round left the chamber. Not one found the intended target. The fat creep panicked and started to drag himself down the corridor.

The Micro-Mac 77 had only the rounds in the magazine it currently held. Roebuck did not have a spare for a reload. He could not wastefully expend ammunition. Every shot had to count. The pain, however severe, would not deter Roebuck on his vendetta. The fat creep had to die and there could be no alternative.

Ahead, in the hallway, Roebuck saw the pitiful sight. The fat creep, like a wounded animal, pathetically crawled along the floor. The pistol the creep carried lay abandoned at the bottom of the last step. It was empty and it seemed the creep also did not have a magazine for a reload. It would be easy enough to end the creep, but Roebuck wanted him to suffer.

It was a difficult trek, but Roebuck descended the stairs. He stood over the fat creep. The fat creep rolled onto his back to look his pursuer in the eyes. Roebuck held the submachine pistol up. The Judge fired a short burst. The rapid surge of bullets struck the creep in the right kneecap. Enough rounds had been fired that they managed to sever the creep's leg. The fat creep cried out in agony.

"Hurts don't it, mother fucker!" grunted Roebuck. "You like hurting women? I bet they'll appreciate this."

Roebuck switched the weapon to semi-automatic. He wanted a precise shot. Though unsteady in his left hand, Roebuck used all of his might to concentrate. He pointed the submachine pistol right at the fat creep's crotch. The intention was to feminize the creep, as retribution before the killing blow delivered. As Roebuck went to squeeze the trigger, several impacts burned into his back. He looked down at his chest to see blood oozing from three exit wounds. His knees were weakening and he was falling to the floor.

A confederate of the fat creep, a member of the organization, ascended the staircase with pistol trained. Apparently, this associate, and fellow trog, was on his way to visit the creep when he encountered the brutal attack. Roebuck's back was turned and his attention focused on an act of cruelty. He failed to observe the attacker approach.

With a cough, Roebuck could feel the blood expelled from his mouth. The attacker drew near, ready to finish off the Judge. Roebuck, wounded, fell to the ground. Utilizing his Judge's training, Roebuck immediately turned to fire on this new combatant. The approaching trog believed his shots had killed Roebuck, and subsequently let his guard down.

Several rounds, fired out of desperation, struck the trog in the center of his chest. The trog fell backwards and down the flight of stairs. Roebuck lay against the wall of the depressed hallway. The blood from all of his wounds soaked and stained his clothes. He turned his attention back to his intended target. The severing of the leg with the automatic fire had resulted in a massive amount of blood loss. The fat creep was drawing his final breathes, as Roebuck sat wounded. After several moments, the fat creep succumbed to his wounds and died.

Before his very eyes, Roebuck believed he could see Lana. She knelt in front of him caressed his cheek. The submachine pistol had fallen from Roebuck's grasp; his attention now focused on the apparition. He felt at ease, all of the stress of the events started to melt away. Lana's presence was comforting. The job was done, justice delivered. In his last minutes, there was no one else he would rather spend his time with. Roebuck knew he would see her again, soon.

000

Sector House 301 Med-Center

Three Days Later:

Roebuck's eyes opened wide. The piercing sunlight was blinding and he had to squint. The vision slowly cleared, but it was several moments before he could make out his surroundings. Jenner was asleep in a chair opposite the foot of the hospital bed. She watched over him, as sentry.

The pain was excruciating. Roebuck looked down at his chest. It was wrapped in white bandages that were stained red. The bleeding had resumed and he felt himself weaken. A low tone started to cycle in a synchronized pattern. It was a medical alert to signal a patient had regained consciousness. The tone had managed to rouse a sleeping Jenner. She rubbed her groggy eyes, as a team of doctors and orderlies dashed into the room.

The medical staff set to their work. They took readings from the various machines connected to Roebuck. One nurse shined a flashlight into each of Roebuck's eyes. It was excited atmosphere that continued for nearly an hour of uninterrupted medical work. Once satisfied that the patient was stable, the medical personnel left almost as quickly as they had entered.

Jenner sat up in her chair with a smug look on her face. She could only shake her head in disbelief at Roebuck. Roebuck was confused by the turn of events. The last thing he remembered was lying, mortally wounded he believed, in a hallway in the Bowery Bottom. Now, he convalesced in the Sector House's medical center.

"You're one lucky son of bitch," started Jenner. "A regular Justice of the Pit."

Roebuck's expression was a quizzical one. He did not understand what Jenner meant. Since it was clear he somehow survived the shootout, the next thing would be explaining why he was there to the Special Judicial Squad. Stealing a car, a gun, breaking and entering, and murdering two suspects would surely earn him a sentencing from internal affairs.

"You're a Gruddamn hero, Roebuck," said Jenner. "Not sure how it turned out that way, but good for you."

"What are you talking about," Roebuck managed, with some pain.

"The memory card on that Snapro in the creep's apartment was recovered. Teks matched one of the images to the girl we made that scene about taking to the hospital. Someone in the Sector House was bribed by a reporter to leak the images. Now, we have headlines across the City, a human rights watchdog has gotten involved, and some muties are turning up at Sector Houses wanting to testify about being trafficked in return for amnesty and asylum."

"No shit? What about the girl?"

"That same watchdog group snatched her up. Paying her medical bills, moved her to a nicer med facility back in the City proper. Most likely going to turn her into the poster child for their cause. They might even want you to come as guest of honor at some trafficking awareness gala. The Brass are delighted. With all of that Democracy Now bullshit going around, Department could use some good PR. SJS has been discreetly ordered to back off from a full inquiry. "

It was a surprising turn of events. Not one Roebuck had expected.

"So how did I end up here?" Roebuck inquired. "I thought for sure I was…"

"Dead," replied Jenner. "You were shot to hell when we found you and touch and go for a good twenty four hours once we got you back here. You flat-lined a few times."

"How did you find me?"

"Wasn't fucking easy. Booker and I were bashing heads for over an hour on the street in front of the Arcade before we could get someone to spill the creep's location. We rolled up and found you looking like shit. One thing you should thank me for is taking you to that discount doc. She pumped you with enough detox to purge your system you ended up passing a drug screen they ran here."

The morphine drip began to intensify. The pain was less severe. It was more manageable to speak. Roebuck was no stranger to gunshot wounds. He carried two already. There would be long days spent in surgeries and in a medical tube having his body patched back together. His eyes grew heavy and Jenner took it as a prompt to leave. She squeezed his hand gently and turned.

"Hey Jenner," started Roebuck. "Thanks."

"No need to thank me," Jenner replied. "Just be less stupid next time. Also, get well soon, I'm looking forward to riding that again.

After the last euphemism uttered, Jenner left the room. Roebuck settled his head against the comforting embrace of the pillow. He felt accomplished. The fat creep was dead, the young girl rescued, and justice served. Perhaps not the smoothest execution of the Law, but one he could live with. A few thoughts Lana drifted across his mind. He had hoped to see a hallucination of her appear, but no such spirit manifested.

It was something Roebuck would dwell on in the coming days. No such lifelike images of Lana appeared. Everything that happened in the Bottom, the resolution, it brought a sense of closure for Roebuck. He had done something redeemable, something worthy. He had saved the life of a young girl and stopped some very dangerous men. That was something he could live with and he felt proud. Roebuck had brought an act of justice to the Pit.

000