Hoooooo boy. Been a while, folks! I'm out of the country, and work and studying has been a bitch. Thanks Kather-Swine for the review that finally galvanized my ass into finishing this chapter!

The call crackled over Dredd's comm as he wound his way on the Lawmaker toward Sector 13, fresh off a job in Sector 5. He'd dealt final judgment to three perps and arrested three more. A good end to his shift.

"Control to all patrols. 10-24 at Titan, Sector 3. Two Judges under fire. Back-up requested."

He pulled a U, the wheels of his bike screeching against the asphalt. "Dredd to Control. I'm on it. ETA to Titan: five minutes."

"Affirmative. Patching the GPS to you now."

He arrived in four minutes and twenty seconds. Dredd strode in through the huge rusted iron entrance way to Titan. The courtyard was grey concrete, with vandalized park benches every few meters. A fountain dominated the center, grey and dried up with sickly green algae stains on the basin. The citizens watched him warily, their mostly dirty faces camouflaging them against the stained walls of the shops. Dredd stopped, and checked his GPS again. Two red dots blinked inside a schematic of the block, moving west at a rapid pace on level 123. The Judges were on the move, most likely with pursuers.

He headed for the elevator. In Sector 3 blocks, the elevators were located off the main square, in the secondary corridor facing south. He turned into it, and came face to face with six gang bangers, all with pistols and semi-automatics clenched in their fists.

"Interesting," Dredd muttered.

"Hey, pig," the leader growled, the red handprint on his bicep jittering as he gripped his ancient Tech-9 a little harder. "We don't like when Judges come sniffin' around where they don't belong."

"That so? I don't like when someone obstructs the Law," Dredd replied, his snarl deepening as he slid his finger toward the trigger of his 'Giver. "Get out of my way."

"You blind, Judge?" The leader grinned, his front two teeth missing. Junk, probably. "We've got you outnumbered. And we got orders."

If there was one thing that Dredd couldn't stand, it was perps grandstanding. "Threatening and assaulting a Judge will get you a death sentence."

"Not if you die first." The gang members lifted their guns even before the leader finished speaking, but Dredd was ready. He saw the shift of their gaze, the pull of their muscles as they hoisted their weapons in his direction. Too slow.

"Manual."

He fired three times, the first bullet tearing through the eye socket of the skinhead to the immediate left of the leader, the second thudding wetly into the sternum of the perp to his right, and the third turning their boss's weapon hand into a pulp of bone and gristle.

The three gangbangers left had finally caught up, the noise of their shots and the screams of the head man careening off the close quarters of the grey hallway. Dredd dove to the side, tucking his shoulder and rolling smoothly to his feet, the bullets blasting chunks out of the already peeling cinderblock by his head. He pumped the trigger – one, two, three times – and the last few of the gang buckled, gurgling around their ruptured abdominal organs.

Dredd turned toward the cowering leader, curled piteously around his mess of a hand. "You."

"P-please," the man whimpered.

"Save it, perp. It's going to be life in the 'cubes for trying to murder a Judge. That's usually a death sentence, but you have some information that I want." It took two strides to close the distance between them, and Dredd hauled the man up by his shirt, ignoring his cry of agony. "Where's the Judges?"

"I don't know! I swear!"

Dredd scowled. Perps who weren't perfectly forthcoming were even worse pieces of scum than the average criminal. He gave the man a harsh shake, bringing his Lawgiver down on his ruined knuckles for good measure.

"Bull. Tell me where they are before I decide being lenient wasn't a good idea."

"I swear, I don't know where they are!" The gangbanger shrieked. He was sweating; the shitty tattoos on his head shining with it, and his eyes were rimmed with tears. "B-but we got the call against them on the 123rd. They're probably still up there, 'c-cause we got guys watching the elevator shafts and we haven't heard it go up."

Dredd dropped him, and the man crumpled to his knees once more. "Stay put until the meat wagon picks you up, perp. You leave this spot and you're a dead man. Got it?" The man nodded sluggishly; Dredd wasn't worried he'd make a run for it. He probably had thirty seconds of consciousness left. Blood loss.

He pushed the up button and the doors squeaked open, revealing a thinly plated metal interior, the walls dinged and scratched from a century of use, the graffiti so thick it almost covered every inch of it. Dredd grimaced. If the gangbangers waiting outside each elevator shaft got it into their heads that they should shoot up cars going up as well as down, then the walls wouldn't hold.

But he'd have to take his chances. He had a feeling in his gut that the Judges needed backup, now. What kind of criminal pissant had they stumbled upon that was willing to send his whole gang on a Judge hunt?

He hit the 123rd floor button, and took position in the corner behind the door.

There was no hail of bullets as the car ascended; the only sound was the feeble crackling of an old waltz over the speakers. The doors slid open slowly.

"Hey, you motherfuckers are late! We need-"

Dredd sprang into action as the young perp stuck his head into the elevator, putting a bullet between his eyes. There was shouting from the hallway and four more criminals wielding old machinery came into view.

Amateurs.

He took them out easily, two bullets each, center mass, and one through the head to end it for sure. Textbook. The last gang member managed to get off only one bullet, whizzing high and clear, before Dredd's ripped fist- sized holes in his chest and brain tissue.

He looked down at the GPS tracker. There was a red dot flaring four hallways down to his right. He followed the trail, sticking to the walls in case more perps came barreling down the adjacent passageways. He could hear the gang members, not far away, shouting instructions to each other, banging on doors – in pursuit.

Getting out was going to be difficult.

He stopped in front of the right door, bringing his left fist up to bang on the door.

"Identify yourself." The voice was muffled through door.

"Dredd, Sector 13. Responding to a 10-24 of two Judges."

There was a second of silence; a strange pause that sent the frown on is lip and the hair at his nape curling, and he was about to order them to open up when he heard the soft click of the lock sliding free.

The door swung open and he stepped in quickly –

Blonde hair confronted him, catching what little light remained in the apartment, accompanied by wide eyes and a dusting of freckles along a delicate ridge of cheekbones.

"Anderson," he nodded at her. "Sorry I'm late – some perps on the first level were looking to shoot up some Judges. I'm guessing you would be the reason for that."

She didn't respond as he swept his gaze over the rest of the apartment. Not good. They were too much of a target in the tiny accommodation, with its open living space and flimsy walls and no secondary exit. They would need to move and soon.

Anderson attempted to say something, her voice hardly a whisper, but he cut her off. "Where's the other Judge? What's his status?" He turned his scrutiny back on her – suddenly aware that she was standing too still.

Her eyes were wild, glassy; her breathing was coming in short bursts, almost hyperventilated, and her hair was beginning to stick to the sweat collecting at her temples and throat. Her lips trembled as she opened them – "I need you to hit me." Her eyes darted back and forth as she took a step back, shaking her head a little and clenching her fists. "I m-mean stun me, knock me out."

She was not making sense, and her actions were erratic. Something had happened. "Explain, Anderson."

She babbled something about drugs, and Dredd watched as she leaned heavily into the door frame, legs visibly shaking and too weak to hold her weight.

Dredd strode forward and grabbed her by the arm, steadying her. "Are you wounded?"

But he had seen Anderson wounded before, a bullet through her side; and she had soldiered up and walked out of Peach Trees on her own two feet, with the only outward manifestation of her pain being the slight hiss and clenched jaw she had allowed herself as he patched the hole. This is something else, something-

She was shaking her head frantically, eyes afraid. "No, y-you need-"

And then she went still, her pupils blowing open. "Oh."

He was about to order her to give a health report, or maybe haul her to her feet and demand that she concentrate so they could figure out the plan of action, but suddenly Dredd can't remember because his mind was filled with her.

She knifed her way into his mind, ripping away any other thought as easily as if she were tearing through tissue paper.

She makes it real; so unbelievably real and for the first time in his life he understands a perp, understands why the gang filth in Peach Trees had pissed himself with fear because he had believed-

She infects his mind in a way that makes it impossible to tell reality from fiction; so that he sees his own hand reaching out to fist in her blonde hair, pushing her roughly to her knees as she eagerly fumbles for his belt, her eyes fever-bright when she looks up at him, mouth open, and leans forward-

It is chaos.

It's a blur of touch and scent and taste that is too goddamn tangible despite being a figment of his imagination -No. Not his; hers - and crystal sharp images that move just a touch too quickly, jumping from one action to the next without connection.

She is standing, and her hands pull off his helmet, exposing him - there are fingers curling into the hair at the base of his neck that send an electric shock shooting down his spine to pulse heavily in his fingertips.

And now he is watching as he rips at her uniform and she gasps and writhes beneath him, her long legs winding around his hips, breasts spilling into his palms, and "Yes, pleasepleaseplease, more-"

His teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her thigh-

Her tongue burning a stripe along his stubbled jaw-

She is projecting how she is feeling, as well, because Dredd feels like he is on fire, like his body will burn to ash if he does not get inside of her right now, and he has never known desperation like this, thought he was incapable of it because whatever primitive instinct his body possessed had been forced down under the lock of iron will long ago.

And then she is riding him, naked and ravenous, and he swears he can taste her skin on his tongue, can feel the sting as her nails dig into his shoulders…

It switches again and he stares at the smooth line of muscles in her back as she keens, her head thrown back – no, pulled back by his grip on her hair, his other hand pressing bruises into her hip as he fucks her from behind-

He knows he has stumbled, by the distant ache of his knee where it crashed into the cheap linoleum. The pain brings him out of the blindness and for a second he sees with his own eyes.

They are both kneeling in the dark, among the scatter of old newspapers and letters, panting in exertion and their clothes intact; the only connection between them is his grip on her arm from when he had steadied her.

"Anderson." He croaks. It is meant to be a warning, but her eyes are blank, and he feels the swell as she tries to drown him in her thoughts once more.

He feels the fury crashing into his gut a second before he smashes his other fist into her cheek, the crack echoing in the small apartment. She moans; it is not a sound of pain.

Snarling, Dredd hauls her to her feet, slamming her into the door, and crushing against her so she will see his bared teeth even in the dark. Dimly, he's aware they are still in a situation, with a gang hunting them and a downed Judge on their hands.

But his anger feels a little like madness; His control is everything, everything that keeps this wrath bound up tightly and buried deep. But she stripped him of that control, dragged it out of him in a second. His hands are shaking as they tighten on her.

"Get the hell out of my head, Anderson. I will hurt you if you continue." Her thoughts had not retreated with the blow. "Promise?" she says, hear lolling back as she rolls her body against him.

He feels one of her ribs give way as he punches her again, but she doesn't seem to notice, the images threatening to cloud over his vision.

Goddamn her.

Dredd knows what is right and wrong; the law is carved in diamond. Never kill an innocent.

But for one second, one clarity-sharp second, he considers killing Anderson for what she's done to him.

He turns inward, letting the fire of his pure seething hate – at her, at her power, for forcing him to be weak- burn through every image, every goddamn touch, every feeling Anderson had imposed on his mind.

Returning it all to dust.

He hears her whimper, in true agony this time, as he viciously attacks her presence in his head-pushing her to the cliff edge of his consciousness with sheer rabid will. Anderson stands there a moment, teetering above the blackness, and then falls, retreating into her own mind. Dredd feels a sudden release of pressure at his temples.

It is silent in the apartment, beside their breathing and the faint tick of the plastic clock in the living room. Five minutes have passed.

Tears are dripping from Anderson's big eyes, now. Her teeth are grit in pain. "Please, Dredd." Her voice trembles. "I-it hurts. It burns me. I need it-I need you-"

"Judge Anderson." He steps away. "You are found guilty of assaulting a fellow Judge. Thirty years in an Isocube."

He unholsters his Lawgiver. His hands are steady.

"Dredd-"

He lifts the weapon-

"Stun."

– and shoots Anderson point blank in the chest.

Constructive criticism, as always, is one hundred percent helpful!