Dredd Sadie Summers -

“Sir?”

He strode off into the rain, calling for a clean-up unit. Summers watched him go, then looked down at her Lawgiver. She ejected the spent casings, letting them ping into the puddle at her feet. Two rounds. One lesson.

“Understood.”

“That second round. Would you fire it again?”

She finally stood, turning to face him. Her visor met his. In the low light, she could almost see her own reflection in his helmet—a tired, hard woman with a scar on her lip and ghosts in her trigger finger. dredd sadie summers

He turned to walk away, then paused. For a moment, he seemed almost human.

Dredd was silent for a long four seconds. Long enough for the rain to start again, thin and cold. “Sir

Her jaw tightened. The Futsie had been screaming about his daughter. About a quota. About a Judge who’d crushed her skull during a riot three weeks ago. Summers had heard the name. The Judge was dead now—killed in a crossfire last shift. But the Futsie didn’t know that. All he knew was rage.