I like to know what I'm getting into in a fic, so for your reading convenience, here lie all the warnings I can think to give. I'm really just scrawling this story down because bizarre drabbly little segments come to me and I wanted to see if I could wrangle them into a cohesive arc. The 2012 movie prompted my Dredd curiosity and reinforced my dislike of the 1995 atrocity. I've read a fair amount of the comics and reference them but this is a fic, and it takes some massive liberties.

This will end up being rather slashtastic. My headcanon mess of an Anderson is a guy. He shares life events with the Cassandra Anderson we know and adore from the comics (and the Psychic Crime Files are awesome) but has a rather different personality.

If slash or deviation from absolute canon Dredd squicks you out at all, this is probably not the party train you want to climb aboard. (If you want to read some actually hilarious and classic Dredd, pop to your preferred local shop and pick up The Day the Law Died or the Cursed Earth Saga. There's also a ton of crossovers and of course, all the Case Files.)

Naturally, Dredd is Dredd, but things are going to bend way out of your expected canon to give him an arc and development. I do reference pretty well-known comic events but the chronology has obviously been fiddled with, I'll try to note that whenever I think of it.

That's all for now; I'll try to update regularlyishsorta. If it is your type of fic, I hope it's enjoyable!


Dredd usually anticipated the nightly routine of taking off his uniform with a certain resistance. He liked being able to seal up inside of it and always felt underprepared for an imagined multitude of assaults when he shed it. Tonight though, he was very grateful for the heat of the shower. His last call of the day had resulted in a very fine mist of liquefied organs splattering in places he didn't dwell on because of a poorly placed high ex shot from the rookie he'd been forced to drag along.

It wasn't so much that the Chief Judge had unloaded the kid on him permanently as one previous day of evaluation had pushed him into the unfamiliar position of social obligation. He certainly didn't feel accountable for the current partnership or whatever it was. Their first run out culminated in the Peach Trees fiasco and should have been conclusive enough to part ways forever. But after another day of mentorship, it turned into a couple of months of mentorship, and someone who was irritably scrubbing innards out of his hair started to wonder how the kid hadn't been scared away yet or gotten them both killed. And, honestly, how the splatter of organs worked themselves far enough under his helmet to begin with. He couldn't decide which was more unsettling.

So it wasn't unreasonable for him to stumble back into a fumbled defensive posture when he returned to his bedroom to find a smirking Anderson cross-legged and peering up at him over case files. The grin his face widened into was the same downright predatory expression worn when he would prowl after easily taken rookies. Dredd exhaled and growled out "Nice shot," before Anderson could begin speaking.

"I did hit all intended targets," he supplied, setting down the case files and stretching his legs out in front of him on Dredd's narrow bed. His hair was wet and he showed absolutely no trace of the previous hour.

"You hit an entire building," Dredd remarked, receding into a hooded sweatshirt unsurprisingly emblazoned with the Hall of Justice insignia.

Anderson smoothly ignored the critique and squinted at the attire. "You ever, you know, not cheerlead for the law?" Anderson poked, drawing out the last word and flopping onto his back.

"You ever respect it? That door was locked," he shot back.

"Locked to the talentless. They don't trust you with state secrets for a reason, I could read you from across the galaxy," Anderson pointed to the door's keypad.

Dredd grumbled and advanced towards the bookshelves that were the only distinct feature in the spartan room. He glared accusingly at the volumes, neatly arranged and (Anderson suppressed a guffaw, were they drokking alphabetized?) selected one that looked a little more yellowed than the others. Anderson watched him shuffle around, eyes precise and attentive as he analyzed his movements. It never ceased to fascinate him that someone who communicated almost solely through the physical medium would disappear at the end of long day defending the law to read more about it. Anderson wondered how he was able to tolerate the hypocrisy of doing that and still resolutely ignoring the existence of paperwork in any and all forms. It seemed too dissonant for someone who functioned so black-and-white.

Dredd felt the examination on his back and halted at the foot of the narrow bed as he passed towards the apartment's small table. He bristled, "Need something?"

Anderson sat up and leaned towards him, giving a generous and obvious appraisal of his form. "Offering?"

After two months, he knew better than to accidentally bait Anderson by dignifying his passes with a response. He assumed that the statements were a product of his natural modus operandi and wasn't concerned with taking them seriously enough to deflect them. Besides, fraternization with other judges was against the law.

He kept moving, faintly wondering why the the Chief Judge hadn't been compelled to dump this particularly blond personification of everything Dredd hated about human interaction on someone else for punishment.

Anderson raised an eyebrow. "Well," he started conclusively, selecting a file folder from the manila hued castoffs he'd flung around the room and smacking it against Dredd's chest, "we're doing this tomorrow."

Dredd accepted it and palmed it open with one hand, reading and memorizing pertinent facts quickly. He grunted noncommittally and tossed the file back at Cass.

"Come on, is that all the enthusiasm you can muster for justice?" Anderson prodded. "I thought we could bond, maybe get shot together again. I could supply my radiant charm, you could grunt and scowl…"

"Why are you on my bed, still?" Dredd's voice slipped into the only variant tone it seemed to contain-Anderson-induced irritation.

"Don't we talk about it now? Chief Judge specifically told me to learn eeeeverything I can from you," Anderson said. He hopped off the bed and stood right in Dredd's path.

"You're being a specific pain in the ass. It's past midnight, I need to scrub the guts off of my 'giver and devise a way to make you a mute before I spend another day babysitting."

Anderson nodded, raising his hands and backing towards the door. "Alright, point taken, the big words are out so you must be serious. Enjoy your wild night in," he added with an obscene gesture, pointing to the book in his hands. Dredd just narrowed his eyes (not that they weren't entirely shielded by his hood) and tightened his jaw imperceptibly.

When the door slid shut again, he smacked the book on the table and sat down to begin dismantling his gut-encrusted weapon. Drokking rookie.