Chapter Two: The Street Judge
Disclaimer: I don't own anything here and if you don't believe me then please see the detailed disclaimer in the prologue. I stand to make no money off of this tale, only enjoyment.
Author's Note: Hello again, it's Gordon King bringing you another installment to this new and excitement story. Before we proceed any further, I would like to acknowledge AnnaDahl for being the first to review my story. Thank you for taking interest in my story and I hope to keep you intrigued. For everyone else who has read, I can't believe the international presence my story has drawn and I encourage you all to make your voices heard and to speak your minds. But that's enough rambling, ON WITH THE STORY!
"Dude, I don't think is such a good idea. In fact I…I…I think we should just call the boss and tell him the goods aren't here." Charles Forbes was not comfortable with their newest assignment, especially since he and his associates had never met this man. Perhaps it was the fact that he hadn't truly wanted to pursue a life of criminal activity; perhaps it was because of his mother's instilling a sense of paranoia and superstition from his childhood, perhaps it was the fact that tampering with the royal Ice Cache's of Arendelle carried a hefty Sixty-Year mandatory life sentence in Copenhagen Isolated Containment Center. The promise of a large payout did little to calm the young man's nerves, to say nothing about his partner's inflated ego.
"Look Chuckey, I don't give a flying FUCK what you think! Alright?! The boss said all we had to do was set this device up; calibrate the internal array, and walkaway. No fingerprints, no judges, no conviction, and the best part…we're actually getting paid for once! So why don't you shut your fucking mouth and hand me that fucking module before I shoot you myself!"
"I swear to god…mike if we get caught…I…I…I don't wanna end up in the slammer."
The angered criminal rose to his full height and took in a deep breath before releasing in dramatic fashion. At six feet and one inch, Michael Fjord was not a man any one took lightly. Having been raised in the morally bankrupt D-Block in the southern sector of the MegaKingdom, Michael learned quickly that strength and will were the deciding factors in whether someone lived or someone died. His criminal record alone rivaled the length of the constitutional documents in the old world governments, if any judge were to show up now...he wouldn't face a prison sentence...no…his sentence would be a quick death, pure and simple.
"Chuck, I know what you're saying and I want you to listen to me" The large man drew close to his anxious associate before grasping his shoulder with a reaffirming grin. "After we finish this job we're gonna live a life of luxury, no more running, no more stealing, and no more freezing our asses off up in this God forsaken district. You have my word, Chuck." The man in question gave a slight nod before allowing the smallest semblance of a grin to grace his face.
"Atta boy chuck, now where the hell is that module?" Mike asks looking about, tightening his thick coat as the chill of the precious ice begins to penetrate the faux leather garment.
"I'll bet if it were up your ass you'd know where it was?" The shaken thief responded with a light chuckle as he retrieved the equipment in question from a small metallic case, tossing to the taller man who flipped the bird in return. The next witty remark died in his throat when several screams echoed through the hall just thirty meters behind the pair. Slowly, Charles activates his communicator and spent a moment to recover his voice.
"…Y…York…B…Barnes…you…you copy?"
"SHI…O…BAM! BAM! BAM!" The horrific response cut short by three methodic rounds, more than likely the fatal blows to their comrade in arms. Michael swiftly flew to the only door in the opposite end of the room and sealed the massive entryway to the ice vault. Cocking his semi-automatic rifle, Michael returned to his partner's side before leaning down to finish activating the mysterious device.
"What the hell are you doing man?! Our guys just got fucking owned and you're still fucking around with that thing! We need to get the fuck out of here! NOW!"
"Chuck, we came here to do a job and that's what we're gonna do! Besides there's no way anyone's getting through here, that vault door could withstand a nuclear blast and not have so much as a dent to show for it. You worry too much."
Charles shook his head and began to respond only to have his words die halfway up is throat as the lights flickered uncontrollably throughout the room. Suddenly the power seemingly fails, all lights are dark, the emergency back ups fail to engage leaving the two men alone in the ice vault with only the sound of their heavy breathing to occupy their thoughts. Thump, thump, thump…the sound of heavy boots colliding with cold cement floors filled the room. Three heavy thumps and then nothing but pure, mind-numbing silence only serving to drive the edgy men further off of the deep end. The main room lights flashed on in a fury, leading Michael to fire a round off in surprise at the sudden illumination.
"Fucking building's probably falling apart, the boys probably wet their fucking panties when the power went out in their end"
"Think again." Came a gruff response from behind, startling the petrified criminals. A swift spin saw them come to face the barrel of a Lawgiver, a high-tech weapon built to support a one man army, a high-tech weapon given only to elite protectors of the MegaKingdom, a high-tech weapon belonging only to a Street Judge.
The taller man uttered a curse as he gripped his semi-auto with white knuckles, a bead of adrenalin based sweat drips down his forehead in spite of the frigid temperatures of their environment. The worst possible outcome came to fruition; their boss had failed to shield their actions from the gaze of the Hall of Justice. Furthermore, both men now knew the fate of their comrades, they had attacked a Street Judge, resulting in an automatic death sentence for any man, woman, or child. To make matters worse, this wasn't a Street Judge who was known for being lenient or merciful, this wasn't a judge known to bend the law in the face of surrender. This was Judge Bjorgman, the best and brightest public servant at the Hall of Justice. The man who brought in more criminals and put more down than any other Street Judge on active duty in the history of Hall. Here they stood before a man who had put countless numbers of criminals, infinitely more terrifying and brutal, than they could ever hope to be…and they'd been caught red handed.
"Tampering with Ice Stores…that caries a mandatory sixty-year sentence. Possession of illegal firearms, forty years without parole. Breaking and Entering into a highly restricted official vault, thirty years. In total, each of your sentences, at minimum, are one hundred and thirty years if you comply. How do you plea?" The judge held his Lawgiver firm and his scowl deepened with each charge listed off. He had seen the strongest of the pair before, he knew this man's capacity for criminal behavior and further researched his criminal record through the wrist computer, built into his leather-kevlar armor. The younger man was new to this level of crime, probably forced out of the need for money. But in the eyes of Judge Bjorgman, there was no excuse for breaking the law. These men had committed serious crimes, and they would be tried, sentenced, and punished accordingly.
Instantaneously, Charles Forbes dropped his magnum and threw his hands in the air while falling directly to his knees despite the pain. He knew that if he complied, there was a potential for the men and women at the Hall Of Justice to enroll him in a rehabilitation program for young adults such as himself. Charles had even heard of Judged civilians like himself being used as valued informants in exchanged for shortened prison terms, but ultimately anything was better than resisting the law…anything was better than resisting Judge Bjorgman.
"Charles Benjamin Forbes, I hereby sentence you to one-hundred and thirty years prison time in C.I.C.C, however due to your compliance I will cite a suggestion for the potential of a light parole. Michael Fjord, you've heard the charges set against you…how do you plead?" The guff Street Judge deadpanned without missing a beat, turning his attention directly to the burly man in question. The helmets each Street Judge adorned served to protect the men and women of the Hall from all manner of harm in addition to being used as weapons of psychological warfare. Judge Bjorgman had never been seen without his helmet on, and this further added to the visage of being the Face of Justice…an ultimate irony. Michael Fjord could not stare into the eyes of this behemoth of a Street Judge, in fact he felt extremely intimidated by the lack of connection and the size of the Judge himself. Six feet and five inches tall and weighing in at two hundred and twenty pounds, Judge Bjorgman was a wall of muscle as well as a veritable colossus in the eyes of the average citizen in MegaKindgom Arendelle. With a sigh of disgust, Judge Bjorgman's scowl deepened and he took one step forward, keeping his weapon trained on the obstinate criminal.
"In the absence of a formal plea, I hereby enter a plea of guilty on your behalf. Additionally, your sentence would be the same as Mr. Forbes…would be…if I hadn't used this time to read your prior criminal record. Thirty-two counts of first degree murder, seven rapes, and forty-six counts of grand theft…all the while you've alluded the law. In light of these pre-existing convictions, I hereby enter this into the log and find you guilty as charged. Michael Fjord, I hereby sentence you to death, do you have any final statements to make?" The Judge raised his Lawgiver to Michael's eye level and tilted his head slightly in wait.
"Fuck YOU!" Came the shout of a desperate man as he leapt below the Street Judges arm and wrapped his arms around the officer's Kevlar-leather jacket.
In an instant, the once semi-calm arrest had now transformed into a brawl between two powerful forces. Alas, with every struggle, every bout between the forces of law and chaos, good and evil, only two may enter the arena and one emerge victorious. The Street Judge snarled as he gave way to the savage criminal's attack and found himself flung into several pallets to his rear before bringing his elbow down upon Fjord's neck. Following up with a right hook to the jaw, Judge Bjorgman sent his assailant flying across the room with a furious display of true skill and power. Rising to his full height, the Street Judge noticed that young Charles Forbes had taken possession of his Lawgiver in the disarray caused by Fjord's assault. The young criminal took shaky aim while his associate reeled from the vicious and debilitating head injury.
"I wouldn't if I were you…"
"I…I'm sorry Judge…I can't go to prison…not if I don't have a choice." With this declaration, Charles closed his eyes and pulled the trigger, expecting to hear the thunderous bang and the drop of a heavily armored body. Instead he heard the chirp of a HUD or heads up display. Looking to the weapon in his hand, Charles read a display flashing, DNA MATCH FAILED…DNA MATCH FAILED. In the blink of an eye, the weapon exploded with a blistering display raw heat and light. The Street Judge, having already rolled out-of-the-way moments before, watched as the space he previously occupied found itself caked in the blood and remains of Charles Forbes' arm and torso. A unique characteristic of the Lawgiver was that each weapon had been DNA coded to the Street Judge charged with its possession, and failure on behalf of the handler to match the DNA profile of the Street Judge resulted in an automatic self destruct, killing the unlucky soul unlawfully possessing the high-tech firearm.
Charles Forbes choked in pain for a moment, staring at the space once occupied by his arm before looking up at the Street Judge who merely nodded and exhaled a solemn, "Told ya" as the fatal blood loss and shock set in, overcoming the once paranoid young thief. Shaking his head, Judge Bjorgman turned his attention back to his primary assailant who was having trouble standing at the moment as he witnessed the brutal demise of his friend, further cementing his utter failure to kill the lethal Street Judge. Quicker than Fjord could respond, Judge Bjorgman set upon the stumbling criminal and slammed the confused soul to the cold steel wall, a menacing steel knife held at his throat. Michael Fjord swallowed in defeat, he had tried to subdue this man who held his life in the palm of his hand...and he had failed.
"Michael Fjord, your crimes now include the assault and attempted murder of a Street Judge as well as the negligent homicide of one Charles Forbes through entrapment, how do you plead?" The Judge's voice was deep and gravelled, any patience or potential for forgiveness was utterly absent from his declaration as he further pressed his armored forearm into the neck of the perpetrator, earning a gurgled curse in response.
"Plea noted, Verdict Guilty, Sentence…death." With that last statement, Judge Bjorgman slit Michael Fjord's subclavian artery resulting in a three-point-five second death as his body slid down the steel wall; a crimson pool of his own blood grows from the streams cascading down his lifeless form. With a grunt, Judge Bjorgman moves over to the strange machine attached to the large master computer used to monitor the conditions and distribution of the Ice Cache. Moving his hands about the mysterious machine, Judge Bjorgman gives a gruff sigh and stands at full attention when his built-in forearm computer chirps, signaling the activation of his com-link to Central Control at the Hall of Justice.
"Judge Bjorgman, this is control do you copy? There have been reports of heavy gunfire on the scene as well as a notification from S.V.E.N, regarding heavy resistance to your investigation. What is your current status, over?"
"Control, this is Bjorgman, the situation is under control. Six perps' were caught breaking into the Ice Vault and tampering with the cache, recommend sending a team from tech service to retrieve and analyze, over."
"Copy that, do you need reinforcements?"
"Negative, the perpetrators were dealt with accordingly, recommend sending in a wagon for decomp. I'll be returning to the Hall to give my final report and file a requisition order for a new Lawgiver. Copy, control?
"Copy that, your requisition order has been submitted, met, and delivered to your next assignment. Be advised Judge Bjorgman, you are hereby ordered by Chief Justice Kai to report directly to Castle Arendelle. Reports of a possible kidnapping of the royal Princess Anna have been confirmed. Your new firearm will be in his possession to ensure your immediate arrival, copy that Bjorgman?"
With a heavy sigh, the Street Judge nods to himself and begins to head down the emergency exit by which he entered the room to begin with and raised his arm up to speak into the receiver, "Copy that control, I'll be on scene in one half hour. Bjorgman out!"
The Street Judge hated politics, he loathed politicians, and above all he despised being taken from active duty to pursue a politician kidnapped for political reasons. With a guttural growl, the Street Judge exited the main vault chamber and made his way through the winding corridors, beyond the bodies of the hired mercenaries used to protect the pair of criminals he had tracked down. When the officer exited the complex he took one look to the right and then one to the left before giving a sharp whistle. At moments notice, a futuristic motorbike adorned in police trim powered up and moved to rest before his feet. The handles sported grid-like webbing, reminiscent of antlers attributed a male reindeer, used to project an impenetrable force field around the bike and its occupant in extreme cases of mortal danger.
"S.V.E.N, what have I told you about sending incorrect reports to control without my explicit permission?" Judge Bjorgman grilled the bike as he mounted the magnificent machine and craned his neck in aggravation. The Street Judge had initially hated the fact he'd been forcibly paired with the artificial intelligence currently occupying the onboard computer of the Lawmaster motorbike. Over the numerous years which they've served together, S.V.E.N became the only true companion that the Street Judge could consider a friend…this did not mean his "friend" didn't grate his nerves from time to time.
"Well Kristoff, those men were heavily armed and extremely dangerous! They could have called in reinforcements and…well…it's my job to keep you from getting your grumpy butt killed on the job. So a little thank you is in order here!" The chipper almost child like voice of the A.I. answered in defiance of the agitated Street Judge.
"Is that so…fine thank you for sending the report…now hustle up, we're heading to the Royal Palace. Chief Justice Kai has explicitly ordered us to report directly to the Castle as soon as possible." The Judge declared as he revved the powerful engine and propelled himself along the massive highway system at speeds approaching one hundred miles per hour.
"Oooh…a castle you say, maybe you'll meet a beautiful princess and finally get that stick out of your ass for once in your life"
With a gravelled snort, the judge craned his neck slightly before replying, "S.V.E.N, shut up and watch the radio waves." The bike leaped forward, weaving in and out of the heavy traffic infesting and constricting the MegaKingdom highways. His speed increasing exponentially and the engine roaring with all its might, signaling to all in hearing distance that justice was on its way, that a Street Judge was on the way, that Judge Bjorgman was on the way.
Chapter Finite!
End Note: Thank you all for reading and don't forget to review! Make your voices heard and tell me what you like and don't like about the story. Truly, I don't know how I feel about this chapter but in my opinion the best is yet to come and I can always go back and resubmit. But please, be kind and be sincere. Have a goodnight everyone and expect my next update sometime in the next week. Now if you'll excuse me, there's some actual work that requires my immediate attention.