Chapter Eight
'So we're stuck in here?'
'Yup.'
'Til they let us out.'
'Yup.' His head turned away, looking around our immediate surroundings. Probably trying to process this new, potentially permanent and almost certainly deadly situation.
'So are they doing... this?' He nods, lifting his hand to indicate around us both.
'No. No, that's me. I'm focusing on the memory of a location and this was the first thing that sprang to mind.'
'How?'
'I'm Anderson's crash test dummy, remember? They aren't as juiced up as her. It's taking a shitload of focus and energy but I'm managing.' He turns back to staring at me from under his visor. That same hint of being possibly impressed fleeting across his face but I'm not sure.
'So what'd they want? What're they planning?'
'Dunno. Doubt they have one. Probably panicked when we arrived and just boxed us. If they wanted something they'd have tried by now. Probably keep us separate.'
He nods. 'And what if they try to re-separate us?'
I think it over. Consider the possibility and the options that come with it. 'We stay together. Fight.' Before I can think over anything else his hand is wrapped around my wrist again and he's taken the tiniest, most subtle step towards me. The entire environment flickers out of focus for a moment, and then my hand reciprocates and grabs his wrist in return. I turn away, pretending to search the area, pretending to think, plan, anything. Pretending that I'm not completely confused by his hold, by the resolve being communicated through his grip, by the almost neediness that he stays close. Dredd is not needy! He, he's just making sure we stay together, that's all. United front, strength in numbers and all that. As much as I didn't want to admit to it but there was something intensely comforting about feeling the warmth from his hand seeping through the leather of his glove and my sleeve and into my arm.
'And what happens when you run out of energy?'
My head snaps back to look at him, matching his emotionless stare with my own. 'Then you need to cocoon yourself. Focus on anything, doesn't matter what you just focus on it. Should block them out if you're doing it hard enough.'
'What? And just leave you to them?'
'Yeah.' There was a sharpness, a finality to the way I say that that shocks him into silence, and myself. But I knew it was true, wasn't a damned thing he could do, once I've run out of the mental power to shield us both I'm wide open to them. Sure it was dangerous for perps to be able to see into any judges head, but I'm still just a rookie, he however was a whole other kettle of fish. He had years of experience, years of memories they could tap into, use against him, twist until it broke him down into pieces. Pieces they could shape into whatever shape they wanted. If a crazy judge is a time bomb, than a perp controlled judge was a nuclear holocaust waiting to happen. I wasn't as capable, wasn't as experienced, wasn't as deadly as him, not by a long shot and probably never would be. If they got him, Mega City One would be royally screwed.
It may have been hours, it may have been mere seconds, but either way I was exhausted. There was nothing left of me but my wrist that he was gripping still so firmly. The slums had gone. My body had gone. All I saw was darkness and all I felt was numb. I could be falling or floating, frozen or flaming or in absolute agony, but I couldn't feel it, couldn't tell. All I knew, all there was, was his hand keeping hold of my arm. It was the only thing anchoring me in place, stopping me from mentally dissolving but it was only a matter of time, I could feel it, creeping across my skin, across the membrane of my thoughts.
She's losing grip. We've nearly got the bitch.
My hand felt dead, it was limp now, cold, numb at the edges. Did I even have fingers anymore? I think I see him turn to look at me, but there's nothing left to see, only a dead hand. A flare of panic and rage fleets across his face before a quiet reservation takes hold, and his grip loosens. He knows I'm gone, nearly gone. A stubbornness ingrained in his character makes him keep a hold of me for just a little longer. Eventually, hesitantly, however he lets go, watches that last bit of my mental projection disappear. I fade from his view, or did he fade from mine? It didn't matter, either way we're separated. As long as he's safe though...
What about him?
He's blocking us. But who cares? We got her.
