Sweet Justice (12 page)
As he rocketed around Barry Sheene Block on the Lawmaster, James felt freedom for the first time in his life. The air sucked at his face, rippling his fleshy cheeks. The wind tugged and yanked his hair, whipping it untidily about his head. But that was all part of the thrill for James – all part of knowing that, at last, he was truly alive.
That knowledge had first dawned when he’d realised he was going to take the bike. Once this intention was clear in his mind, the mechanics of the act were incredibly simple.
Starting the Lawmaster for someone with his knowledge of the machine presented no problem; but before that he’d had to disable the bike’s Synitron Auto-Pilot computer. He didn’t want some Judge riding a desktop terminal transmitting a programme which would steer him straight to the Iso-Cubes. Keeping the main onboard computer turned off ensured there’d be no outside interference channelled through there. As he’d expected, bending the front wheelguard back into something approaching shape so that the wheel could turn unhindered took mere seconds. After that, it was just a matter of climbing into the seat, starting the engine, selecting first gear, and rolling out past the dumb-struck Agostini to wave goodbye.
Ever since, James Bond had been making the streets of Mega-City One his own. The bike handled like a dream, allowing him to stay in top gear, and at near top speed. Any vehicle in his way took immediate evasive action when he gave them a blast from the siren. And who needed to obey traffic signals when sitting astride a Lawmaster? As he left the residents of Barry Sheene Block inhaling his exhaust fumes, James reflected that he’d not even touched the bike’s brakes yet.
He also reflected that he was living out a fantasy of modern man. He knew this to be true from some of the old videos he’d seen with his mother. Like the landscape flying past as he hurtled onwards, details were hazy, but his imagination had still been fired. Yes – he was Marion somebody, in The Wild something. He was Peter Fondue – was that his name? – from Pale Rider... or was it Easy Rider? He was – no! On the Lawmaster, he was his
own
man. He was James Bond, razzling the living daylights out of the City.
He’s in one heap of trouble,’ mused Judge Dredd when the communication came through. ‘He’s looking at 20 for stealing the bike – and double that with his traffic offences.’
Dredd was on foot patrol, marshalling a demonstration by the Simplified Spelling Committee, or the C.C.K. as they referred to themselves. The march was halted with little protest once the danger of a rogue Lawmaster was explained. It was heading their way, and everybody understood the words ‘motorbike victim’ however they were spelt.
Dredd walked purposefully into the centre of the roadway, closed to traffic because of the march. He adjusted the transmit frequency on his portable communicator. He drew his Lawgiver, flicking its indicator needle position to three. Then he waited, while the demonstrators held their ‘breff’.
James thought about braking and turning back when he saw the signs saying ‘Diversion: Roadway Temporarily Closed’. Instead he opened the throttle even wider. This was a Lawmaster he was on, he reminded himself – a bike that diverted for
nobody
.
Moments later, James was bearing down on some makeshift mesh fencing stretching across the expressway ahead. Without hesitation, he hauled back on the handlebars and applied extra throttle. The wheelie bounced the front tire into the fencing, which buckled, then crumpled under the bike’s immense power. The machine’s Firerock bullet-proof tires ground metres of fencing to dust before they once more bit the rockcrete roadway, allowing James to speed onwards.
The sound of Dredd’s voice booming at him from the bike’s Likron communications unit was as startling to James as the words themselves. ‘Hit the brakes, creep – or take a hit from a Lawgiver!’ James suddenly felt uneasy for the first time since he’d mounted the bike. He’d stolen a Judge’s bike, and there was a Judge directly ahead of him, clearly ready to administer the ultimate sentence. In a split-second, James had weighed up his options.
Stopping meant the end of the ride of a lifetime, and the beginning of a long, long stretch in the Cubes. To carry on, he’d have to open fire first. Triggering the bike’s firepower wasn’t a problem, but blowing away a Judge – with Justice Department hardware – would have drastic consequences for his own life expectancy.
What the hell, thought James, the ride’s got to end sometime – even Lawmasters run out of fuel.
As he eased back on the throttle, James began to smile. So they’d take the bike back, slam him in an Iso-Cube for maybe half his life. So what? He’d always have his memories. He slipped in the clutch, dropped down a gear. What good was any thrill that you couldn’t reflect on? Sure, he’d have plenty of time to reflect, but wasn’t the point of any experience to remember the last time, and look forward to the next time? ‘Roll on justice!’ thought James. ‘Me and my memories are ready to do time!’ He floored the brake.
Dredd watched impassively as the Lawmaster suddenly dipped. The perp hurtled over the handlebars and through the air, to smack bone-breakingly onto the rockcrete. He bounced, scraped and twisted along the expressway, while, behind him, the lock-wheeled Lawmaster did the same. Metal and leather stood up to the punishment better than flesh and bone, however.
James finally rolled to a halt a few meters from Dredd’s feet. ‘Same thing happened to me, last time I rode that Lawmaster,’ the Judge informed the groaning, bloody, unnaturally contorted perp. ‘Locking brakes was the main reason it was in with Agostini...’
The medics did a fine job of putting James Bond back together again, so he could serve his sentence. Unfortunately, pondered James as he sat in his Iso-Cube, they hadn’t done much for the incessant buzzing in his head. ‘Wear a crash hat next time,’ was the advice they’d given him. ‘That way you’d still have those thirty-six hours or so you’ve lost, because there’d be no severe concussion – and no incessant buzzing.’
James stared at the seamless, souless walls of his cell. The mystery of his imprisonment in the Iso-Cubes was equalled only by that last, perplexing remark from the medics. What could he have done, he asked himself, that should have necessitated wearing a crash hat...?
BEHIND THE LEGENDS
Exclusive interviews and career overviews of key comics creators taken from the pages of the Judge Dredd Megazine.
In this first collection Pat Mills, Carlos Ezquerra, Ron Smith and Mick McMahon discuss their work in comics, 2000 AD and many other titles in great detail.
www.2000adonline.com
THE CRIME IS LIFE...
Mega-City One, 2123 - and a plague is spreading like wildfire amongst its millions of citizens, apparently turning them into blood-crazed vampires. With the Justice Department struggling to contain the outbreak, Judge Dredd teams up with the psychic Judge Anderson and ex-Judge DeMarco to investigate the trail of carnage and death left by the enigmatic Death Cult. When the cultists fight back by summoning the four Dark Judges - Death, Fire, Fear and Mortis - it becomes a fight to save both the Mega- City and Dredd’s very soul! Based on the explosive computer game by Rebellion Studios, this all-action novel pits the legendary future lawman against his deadliest and most infamous enemies.
... THE SENTENCE IS DEATH!
All-new stories from the future-shocked worlds of the Galaxy's Greatest Comic - 2000 AD! Check out the other books in this series.
www.2000adonline.com