Whoops. 

The version that was sent out yaesterday was the 'skeleton' as I call 
it.

THIS is the real version.

Extract from the journal of Sylia Stingray:
(NOTE: this is transcribed. Her handwriting was not her normal elegant 
script; a sign of her mental state.)

It is a week since the Dark Judges arrived. 

Frankly, I am at a loss as to what to do. It seems that Genom has 
developed some sort of nanotech that enables Psionic function- probably 
some offshoot of my Father's work. 
They established a Psychic bridge, which is just what Dredd and Anderson 
feared. 
Now that the Sisters of Death are here, the Dark Judges have posessed 
the police. 
The city is under 18-hour curfew, and anyone caught on the street is 
subject to execution.
I have assembled a team of boomers which are helping us fight.
Nene is unconsolable, due to the fact that we daily have to fight- and 
kill- members of the Police. 
Every day, the ADP raids another area, demanding that the people 'come 
out and be Judged'.
All crimes are punishable by death.
The temperature is a constant -2 degrees, and the sky is continually 
dark.
For the first time in my life, I believe that I am in a hopeless 
situation.

Megatokyo Judgement- part 3.

The overcast sky betrayed nothing, but continued to demoralise the 
people. In the Lady's 633 building,
a sullen group sat, debating what to do next.
"We should strike at the Tower."
This came from Leon, who looked haggard. So did Daley. For the past six 
days, since the Dark Judges had installed their method of justice, 
ruling from their Grand Hall of Justice (AKA the Genom Tower)
ADP had become the enemy. Thanks to Anderson's presence, none of the 
group 
had been affected.

"Out of the question, Leon." Sylia sat up. "The tower is too heavily 
guarded. Even with everything we've got, we wouldn't be able to crack 
the place."

"It's the only option. We have to break the Psychic bridge. And that 
means killing the Psis they've got."
This was Dredd. Unfazed by the situation,  since he'd been in worse. 
Much worse than this.  
He was the only one who was happy fighting alongside boomers. He had 
refused the offer of a spare hardsuit or Heavy Motorslave, and had 
proved himself to be adequate at killing boomers and people without such 
luxuries. But he was running out of ammo.
All of them were looking bad, save him. Each were showing signs of 
extreme stress. And in his expert opinion, none of the others were going 
to last much longer in this situation without completely cracking.

 Priss, for example, was smoking about sixty a day. Dredd could see that 
this was her way of dealing with the stress, but she couldn�t keep 
dealing with it in this way. If this was MC1, he�d have had her replaced 
with whoever they  had spare, but in close combat, Dredd had seen none 
better.
 
 Linna was drinking. Heavily. This, to Dredd, was worse than the 
smoking. If she kept it up, she wouldn�t be of any use to anyone. Her 
hit-and-run methods were getting sloppy. This wasn�t much against the 
ADP, but if they went up against the Dark Judges themselves, Linna would 
probably die very, very quickly.

 Sylia was developing nervous tics. She was trying to hide them, but the 
twitches were obvious. Dredd could tell that a complete breakdown wasn�t 
far off.   

Mackie was despondent. Dredd thought he was a natural mechanic, and 
would be a valuable addition to the Judges if they were forced to 
retreat from this reality.  But he�d seen an edge developing in Mackie, 
an edge that was going to break at some point. And there would be plenty 
of damage when Mackie did break.

Leon and Daley were not themselves, and looked a mess. They didn�t have 
the training he�d had when he was at the Academy, but they were holding 
up the best out of the lot of them.

Nene... Dredd was worried about Nene.  She would giggle at  odd moments, 
particularly during combat. At her insistence, extra weaponry had been 
built into her suit. And she�d wanted the heaviest things they could fit 
on. Her suit now sported a twenty-five millimere railgun, which she kept 
setting to automatic. The particle beam gun also caused havoc in their 
hit-and-run assaults, helping citizens escape the city.  She obsessively 
cleaned her nails and polished a knife, which she carried all over, now, 
and called �Tan-chan�.
She was the closest to snapping he�d ever seen anyone. 

Mackie had been thinking about  what Sylia had been saying. 

"What about the Motorlauncher?"

"I scrapped that idea. We couldn�t build it in time anywa...Mackie!"

"Sorry, sis. Couldn't resist building it. I doubled the power to the 
railcannon as well. It's at Raven's."

"We'd need backup..."

"I can provide it. " Dredd looked up. "I'm going to go back. I�ll have a 
few tac-squads, Mantas, gunbirds... you name it.�

"I'll go with you." It was Priss, who was stubbing out her cigarette. 
"It's not 
as if I'm doing much."

"Fair enough. Anderson?" Anderson unclipped her D-jump and tossed it to 
Priss, who clipped it on, and looked at Dredd.

"So when do we go?"

"Now." Dredd pressed a button on her belt, and then on his. There was a 
brief smell of ozone, and  a bang as the air rushed to fill the 
displaced space in the room.

"Mackie. Do you have any other surprises?"

"Well, I built a new weapon for the Heavy Motorslave..."

Suddenly there was a crash from below "ADP! Come out and be Judged!"

Sylia jumped from her seat."We need to get out of here- FAST!"

So did Nene. �Why should we? We can kill them all now! Tan-chan and I 
can take them all on...� She descended into incoherent giggling, rubbing 
the blade against her cheek. Leon noticed with a little concern that 
she�d cut her cheek, and hadn�t noticed.

>From the lower levels there was screams and gunfire. More dead. 

Sylia sprinted up the stairs to the flight bay. "Get up here quickly! 
The Knightwing will be ready in a minute!"

"I'll hold them." This was Mackie. He was in his heavy Motorslave, and 
wielding the rifle one-handed. In his other hand... well, it was an axe. 
A massive axe. It had the same edge as the laser swords that Sylia's 
suit had, but much, much bigger. Then he went down the stairs. Slowly.
�Pick me up from outside.�

Sylia had seen her brother, before he slammed the hatch. There had been 
an edge to his voice and his eyes that she hadn�t liked at all. Then the 
gunfire started. 

***

Mackie, downstairs, had engaged the police.  Anyone who could have seen 
him would have been shocked.
He�d started with the rifle, mowing down the K-12�s and riot-armoured 
police. Their assault rifles  rattled off the hull of his Motorslave, 
and then he ran out of ammo.He holstered the gun, and gripped the axe in 
both hands. 

Then, with a single howl, he went beserk.

Foaming at the mouth, he released all of his stress on the police,  the 
axe ripping through flesh and armour with no distinction. Circumstances 
conspired to drench the armour in blood.

Outside, through the haze of his rage, Mackie saw an unusual 
battlemover.  It was based on the Kumo, but had a complex weapons turret 
in place of the watercannon. This swung into position, and clicked as it 
pointed directly at him.

Mackie unholstered the rifle and fired the undermounted LAW.

This had a minimum range of  ten metres. 

He was firing from five. 

And he was aiming for the fuel systems.

***

In the air above Lady�s 633, a huge explosion rocked the Knightwing. 
Sylia had to fight to keep the craft from falling. Nene stormed into the 
cockpit. "What the hell are you playing at, Sylia? I thought you could 
fly this thing!�

�I can! If you weren�t playing with grenades...�

�What do you mean? That bang wasn�t us!�

Both looked at each other, coming to the same conclusion.

�Nene? Get to the winch-and grab.�  

"I know. That's what I'm doing now."

The Knightwing swooped down, and Nene, looking out of the cargo bay, saw 
the wrecked Motorslave. She used the magnetic grab to take hold of the 
vehicle and hauled it up. While the Motorslave was in the air, she saw 
the mess on the ground. Blood, bodies, and a severely wrecked Kumo. 

 Brought into the cargo bay, it was  almost unrecognisable. Covered in 
blood, missing plates, and leaking fluid...

Nene felt a chill run through her.  That wasn�t hydraulic fluid...

Nene popped the hatch.

***

"Sylia?" Anderson came through to the cockpit.

"We're nearly at Raven's garage... what is it?" Sylia had seen 
Anderson's face. 

"It's Mackie... I think you ought to see him. Now."

"What's wrong?"

Anderson looked away.

Sylia leapt out of the seat with the Knightwing on autopilot, and looked 
for a certain unit her father had built. She could, now that she was 
listening, hear Nene sobbing. She only hoped that she wasn't too late.

End part 3.      



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