Judge Dredd patrolled Mega-City One with a vigilant eye and a sharp mind, always on the lookout for trouble. The morning had been quiet, for the most part. The urban sprawl of the endless miles of mostly ruined city blocks was an ever-present sight that Dredd had grown accustomed to in his decades in law enforcement. When he was just about to complete his patrol and return to headquarters, he received a call on his comm.

“Dredd, we have a situation near the Faust and Juggalo blocks down in Sector 18,” the Justice correspondent spoke into his ear from the receiver in his helmet.

Pressing a finger to the side of his helmet, Dredd asked, “Let me guess. Block war?”

“Correct. A real nasty one too. You better get there soon before we have too many civilian casualties on our hands.”

Like most blocks in the city, the two fighting for dominance were battling for strictly selfish reasons. Welfare for most of the blocks had been cut off due to ration depletions, and many blocks were desperate for supplies and reestablishment of wages that wouldn’t come for Grud knows when. These two city blocks in particular were without welfare, and already scraping crud off of walls just to survive. Both desperate, both unbelievably bored out of their minds, and both having a high cache of weapons from wars fought in the past just begging to be used.

So, on this day in the city, the block war between the Faust block and Juggalo block was started.

Block wars between these two blocks were pretty common, and the general consensus among the populace was the secret hope that both blocks would eventually kill each other off. And as Dredd rode down the streets in his Lawmaster motorcycle, he was secretly hoping for the same thing.

“Control, any word on the situation on the block war?” Dredd asked his helmet intercom. All traffic in his way wisely got out of the way when confronted with the ridiculously wide wheels and foreboding presence of the Lawmaster. That, along with the fact the automatic fire of machine guns from the seemingly impractical vehicle was something no citizen wanted to go up against.

“It seems the depletion of Fake-Faygo has hit the Juggalo block hard. They think the Faust block is hoarding the supplies of their soft drink, and have led an all-out siege on the block,” the Justice Department correspondent said into Dredd’s receiver.

Dredd scowled. “Are these accusations justified?”

“Fake-Faygo is reported to taste like piss and is made near radiation stricken areas of the city, leading to mutations and cancerous growth upon drinking it,” the correspondent answered. “So the chances of the Faust block actually drinking it, even in these welfare-stricken times, is highly unlikely.”

“Understood.”

“Do you need backup?”

Dredd spotted the block war currently in progresses as he crested the ridge of the road leading to the main street. The bright, colorful lights of the Faust block conflicted greatly with the demented graffiti and demonic markings of various clown images. Each block housed over fifty-thousand residents, and some never left the safety of their blocks since every care or need was provided within its walls. It was practically a town where every citizen was strictly loyal to their block’s asinine followings.

“Not needed,” Dredd replied. The Judges were cut down by half and spread as thin as it is ever since the latest disaster to befall the city. Besides, he felt like some alone time… with said alone time arresting perps and beating up anyone who didn’t comply.

The two blocks were in a state of severe disrepair, which was further enhanced by both sides throwing everything not nailed to the floor at the other block in a vain effort to bring it to the ground. Block residents fired guns, threw explosives, hocked loogies, and did other nefarious practices with their body parts and fluids on the opposing block. The dead lay in the streets, waiting to be brought to the recycling center for process. The injured cried out in pain, begging for release by enemies who were glad to give it. And throughout it all, Dredd calmly got off his bike, and marched to the teeming mass of fighting blocksters.

The Juggalo block residents had white and black painted faces to appease their supposed clown gods of some sort. That was Dredd’s best guess, anyhow. Though the clown makeup was probably tattooed instead of makeup. Makeup hadn’t been available since the ration cut offs.

The Faust block residents, in comparison, were the complete opposite of their psychotic clown neighbors. They wore bright and overly colorful shirts and designs depicting some strange, equine creatures they always seemed to be adamant about. A few had enough credits to afford the unnecessary but popular surgery to have a horn implanted on their forehead (as long as they don’t mind losing some bone from their foreleg). All of them had ridiculous dyed hair, at least in contrast to the other Mega-City One citizens.

As Dredd drew closer with his boot heels striking hard on the asphalt, he noticed that most of the block residents were men in their twenties to thirties with rampant neckbeards and obesity. Well, not as bad as a Fattie, or else they’d need a unicycle specifically for their overgrown bellies, but well enough on that path.

A Faust block resident had a Juggalo by the throat and was attempting to stab the clown-loving degenerate with a plastic horn toy. Without even batting an eye Dredd twisted the horn out of the perp’s hand while also twisting his wrist in a painful position, the bone snapping like a twig. Grabbing ahold both of their meaty necks, Dredd smacked their forehead together in a skull-cracking blow, the prosthetic horn from the Faust resident creating a gash on the white painted head of the Juggalo.

“Attention citizens! Block wars are strictly illegal according to the law! All persecutors here are sentenced to twenty years to an Iso-cube! Anyone who resists arrest gets an additional twenty years!” Dredd barked at the top of his lungs, his voice catching everyone’s attention even over the gunfire. You didn’t live in Mega-City One long enough until you’ve heard the voice of Dredd. A voice living very much up to its name. Resting the palm of his hand on the Lawgiver at his belt, Dredd stated, “Drop your weapons and put your hands above your heads.”

The citizens stopped what they were doing immediately. Only seconds ago killing each other and ripping the other’s throats out, now they were presented with the clearest and most dreaded sign of authority in the city. Right now Dredd was hugely outnumbered, yet none raised a weapon to him. Rather, many started to drop them.

Walking briskly into the crowd of Juggalos and Faust enthusiasts, he activated his communicator and said, “All hostiles in the area have been subdued with no deaths or provoked attacks. You can bring a cleanup squad in right away to clear the mess and take the criminals to their cubes.”

“Over and out, Dredd,” the correspondent said. “Cleanup should arrive in less than ten minutes.”

Dredd didn’t bother answering, instead lowering his hand as he made his way through the crowd of former block war wagers. They all look terrified to even stare him in the eyes, and the vast majority did everything in their power to avoid eye contact at all costs. Everyone except for one person in particular.

“Death to the ponyfags!” a exceptionally fat Juggalo bellowed, running right towards Dredd and the other Faust block and Juggalo block residents around him.

In a swift, practiced motion that he had done thousands of times before both in training and on the streets, Dredd drew his Lawgiver, aimed, and fired right in between the eyes of the crazed Juggalo. The detonator he was holding in his pudgy hands fell to the ground as the explosives wrapped around his wide girth were revealed to the crowd. As his blank eyes stared wistfully in the distance, the Juggalo fell like a ragdoll.

“Dredd, report says your weapon was fired. Anything wrong?” the correspondent asked.

“Freak tried to kill me and everyone here in a suicide bomb attempt. Took him out before he could,” Dredd explained into his comm as the dazed block residents began screaming and running for their lives, creating an empty space around the would be bomber.

“You know Chief Judge Hershey doesn’t want anymore perp deaths right now. We need to—”

“The creep tried to blow himself up. There wasn’t much of a chance for me to cuff him so Hershey could put him on a chain-gang to clean up this city,” Dredd interrupted with an extra bit of bitterness in his voice. “So my apologies to the Chief Judge.”

“You can apologize to me right now.”

Dredd’s ever-present frown deepened. “You’re on my comm.”

“I know. I hope you don’t mind,” Hershey responded. Both their tones were sharp enough to cut steel, though Hershey’s seemed weighed down, tired even. “We have an emergency at Justice HQ that needs your attention.”

Dredd looked around. Fleeing perps returned to their blocks, probably awaiting sentence from the Judges sure to arrive shortly after. Too many of them were fearful of leaving their blocks for too long, and any who did try to escape would be quickly hunted down and sentenced much harsher.

“This involves the Psi-Division. Chiefly, Judge Anderson. She has requested you specifically to report back to base.”

Already getting back on his Lawmaster and reving it up, Dredd asked, “Any reason why?”

“She said it was an emergency.” Hershey paused, the crackle of the comm crinkling in Dredd’s ear. “A… Death emergency.”

Dredd increased the speed on his lawmaster to its highest level, racing down the roads at a breakneck pace. “I’ll be right there.”

The burning torment of hellfire and damnation was, overall, an interesting experience. Your soul could feel pain, incredible amounts of pain, that never died down and that you never got used to. The agony itself was unspeakably wretched and never stopped for a precious second of rest. Every moment ticked by as if an eternity weighed it down, and no light of repentance or wish for a savior was ever answered.

All in all, Sidney De’Ath, better known by all as Judge Death, was not having a good time.

Looks like all those mass-murderings finally got the better of him after a random death by his hand led to said victim turning into an angel in heaven and then sending him directly to hell. Karma could be a real, heartless bitch.

Oh, he very well deserved eternal damnation for what he had done. Genocide, killing without regret, killing while evilly giggling, killing while out shopping for groceries, killing for free LUNCHEON VOUCHERS, and of course, jaywalking. He deserved hell for all these reasons and more, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“All crimesss are done by liiife! Their sssentence is deeeath! All life muust diiie!” Death screamed out from the pit of lava he was currently roasting in.

The demon over him sighed, then shoved his trident into Death’s face and pushed him deeper in the sweltering heat of the lava. “Man, this guy never shuts up,” he complained, digging a talon into his earlobe to remove something. “Death this and crime that and everything being a punishment. Sheesh, he just blabbers on and on and on.”

“Beeware my wraath, Dredd! For when I eeescape, you ssshall paaay!” Death gurgled from beneath the lava’s surface, his claw-like hands desperately trying to keep him afloat.

Truth be told, Death didn’t know how he’d escape this one. Every time he was trapped previously by that cursed Dredd and his cronies, he always managed to find a way to escape from the Judge’s clutches. Even on Deadworld, his home dimension where all life had been extinguished, he could find a way to sneak back to Mega-City One in his unfailing quest to kill all life in existence. But now he was in hell, apparently forever trapped for his wretched crimes. What a way to go…

“Excccuse usss, do you miiind?” twin voices asked behind the demon who was trying to shove a flailing Death back beneath the flames.

“Not until my coffee break,” the demon replied, not even bothering to look over his shoulder.

“Then alloww us to help.” The demon was pushed into the searing inferno of the lava pit, quickly sinking to the bottom as he cried out pathetically.

Death was dragged out from the pit using the trident still implanted in his face. With a hard yank it was removed, which would have probably have removed his eyeball if he was in his physical form. Instead, it hurt just enough for his fiendishly girly cry to reach a new octave.

“Oh, quit yyour wwhining!” the wretched sounding voices who saved Death said. “You ssstill havve a jooob to do!”

“Hhow ddare you cccommand Judge Death to do your biiidding!” Death replied with resentful fury, turning to the voices with a raised fist. He stopped immediately when he saw just who rescued him.

The Sisters of Death, Nausea and Phobia, stood before him in their decomposing and unappealing to the eyes presence. Even now the hags sent a shiver of disgust down Death’s spine (if he had one, that is). Nausea lived up to her name, her rotten body containing a face only pure evil could comprehend, along with her left shoulder being covered in a sea of gore covered tentacles that fought endlessly with the claws and eyeballs already situated there. Phobia shared her sister’s decomposed state, with a live scorpion on her right shoulder that tried to pinch the twin faces on Nausea’s left shoulder.

“We sshall cccommand yooou to do wwhatevver we pleease, Death!” Phobia hissed, her sister cackling beside her. “Wwe made you, afterall.”

Death took a step back and raised his claws. “I-I amm ssso terribly sorryy, my wreetched oness. Forggivve me for myy inssolence.”

“Forgivveness sshall be ggratned in death!” Nausea said, closing her claw into a fist. “Mega-City One and it’s inhhabitants ssshall pay for their criiimes!”

“Annd especcially Dredd!” Phobia added on. Both sisters laughed in demented glee, the mass of worms on Phobia’s left shoulder shaking so hard some fell into the lava pit.

“Exccellent!” Death rubbed his claws while his hideous smile spread like a plague on his face. “Soon Dredd annd the cityy shaall be judggged!”

“In due tiiime, Death.” Reaching into the wringgling and crawling heap of tentacles on her shoulder, Nausea withdrew a decaying human body that was particularly ripe. “Buuut firsst, wwe need yoou to take care of somethingg.”

Death jumped like a little schoolgirl and clapped his claws eagerly for the not-so-fresh corpse above him. “Yess, yeeeeeessss, I’ll do anythingg!”

“Before wwe judge Dredd and hisss city, another wworld isss in need for our judgemeeent,” Phobia said. Her smile could flay the skin off bone as she playfully tugged on the leg of the corpse. “Yyou shall be the one to bringg justicce for this world’s criiimes.”

“The livves of thisss world ssshall meet my judggement!” Death hissed, holding his claws out wide for his gift. “Theyy shall be punishhed for their criiimes of liffe!”

“That’s a ggood Judgge!” Nausea released the corpse, which Death eagerly enveloped with his spirit. As Death situated himself in the body of the deceased, Nausea wiggled her finger and hissed, “Be wwarned, Death, thhisss world isss like none other.”

“As longg as I hhave my lieutenants at myy ssside, their judggement will ccome!” Death said through his new mouth. His neck twisted left to right, the crack of his spine leading to more cracks and pops sounding from various parts of his putrid form. The fingers of the corpse’s hands elongated to end in razor sharp nails, while the rest of the body discolored to a mildewy green with a stench so rancid any cadaver would wrinkle their nose with just a whiff. Soon he was enveloped in a wreath of green flames, with his uniform stitching itself together in its place. A pterosaur appeared on his right shoulder, brooding and ready to hunt its next victim, while on his left shoulder and elbows bones formed out of thin air. Along with this were ridiculously large and seemingly impractical kneepads. At the same time his limbs shrunk down to a bony appearance, much like a skeletons. For the finishing touches, a Judge’s badge in the shape of a skull could clearly be seen on his chest with his name ‘Death’ for all to see, with a matching skull with bat wings as his belt buckle as well.

Touching his head where portcullis visor on his helmet was, Judge Death flashed his trademark demented smile that displayed each and every one of his putrescent teeth. “All shall be juudged!”

“Abooout that…” Phobia scratched her sunken cheek. “Theyy are currently traapped.”

“By the Judge Departmment?” Death asked. “I sshall bringg their headquartersss dowwn to the gground! Thhose inssolent foolsss shall be judgged!”

“Too late,” Nausea cut in. “It alreeady hhappened. Alongg wwith nintey percentt of the populationn of Mega-City One.”

“Ovver three hundredd million deeead!” Phobia licked her wrinkled lips and let out what can either be considered a giggle or hacking cough. “Ohh, howw deliccciousss that wasss!”

“I… missssed that?” Death went down on both knees and raised his fists to the heavens. “Ccurssse you, Dredd! Damnn yoou to—wait.” Death looked around. “Already hhere.”

“Donn’t worrry, Death, Dredd’s tiiime shall ccome. Onnly whenn thisss neww world fallsss,” Nausea said.

“It wwill only hhappen when I havve my Dark Judges!” Death replied while shaking his fist.

Phobia and Nausea shared a look. “Fffine, Death, wwe shall get themm for yyou. In the meantiiime, wwe have another job ffor yoou. A neww Dark Judge isss among usss.”

“Wwait, wait, isss thiss like that lasst one?” Death asked, snapping his fingers as he growled under his breath. “The one wwith the hair? He didn’t turrrn out ssso… well. He wass crazzy, truthfully, evven more thann the ussual.”

“Oh, don’t worryy, Death,” Phobia assured him.

“He isss from the wworld we wwant to meet your judggement,” Nausea added on, grinning like a demented jester. “Annd trussst usss, he wwill be perfect for the job.”

Death glared at the sisters, though the effort was lost since you couldn’t even see his face. After tapping his foot for a few moments and humming under his breath, he smiled and held out his claws. “Vvery well, Sisters of Death. Let meee meet thiss neww Judge.”

“He is in Deadworld, wwaiting fooor you,” Nausea said, trying her best to hold back a grin.

Nudging Phobia with her elbow, Phobia quickly nodded her head. “Yesss, hhe is. I think the twooo of you sshall gget along juuusst fiiine.”

Nausea lifted up her claw and pointed a skeleton finger next to Death, a portal appearing by his side. “Noww go, aand teeach thiss new Judge the truue meaningg of punissshment.”

Death saluted to the Sisters and said, “Wheen my lieutenants are reeeturned to meee, thiss world ssshall pay for it’s criiimes!” Death stepped through the portal, which quickly closed behind him.

“How longg before yooou think Death reeealizes?” Phobia asked her sister, who was hugging her sides holding back laughter.

“I givve him elevven minutess!” Nausea crackled, her sister quickly joining in.

“Spike, do you know where my book on transmutational magic is?” Twilight called out downstairs. She had already lifted up her bed with her magic and was hastily searching underneath it. “I could have sworn I brought it with me to bed last night.”

“Why do you even need a book about transmutational magic anyways?” Spike asked, dusting off the shelves of books on the library first floor.

Trotting downstairs, Twilight was already pulling books off the shelves and scanning their titles. “Remember when I accidentally made that orange bird a couple of months ago?”

Spike arched a brow and ceased his dusting. “You turned a bird orange?”

“No—well, yes.” Twilight shook her head and sighed. “I didn’t turn it into the color, I turned it into the fruit.”

“Ooh yeah.” Spike scratched his chin and tapped his foot. “I still don’t know what transmutational magic has to do with this.”

“Well, apparently that orange fruit-bird laid eggs not too long ago, and now there are more orange bird-fruits like it popping up all over the place.” Twilight groaned and quickened her book scanning pace. “This can be a major contribution to magic’s effects on living beings if I can only find the transmutational magic book to better understand it! But I can’t!”

“Twilight, don’t you think you have something more important to do than study some orange fruit-bird-fruit… thingy?” Spike asked, crossing his arms.

“Like what?” Twilight asked, turning to her assistant.

Spike pointed with a thumb over his shoulder, where on the other side of the room her friends were situated around a cake with candles already lit and presents aplenty stacked up around them.

“Oh… riiiiight. My birthday was today, wasn’t it?” Twilight blushed and scratched awkwardly at the back of her head. “Guess I kind of forgot.”

“Kind of? You’ve been so busy with your princes duties and work, you forget about everything all the time,” Dash said with a playful smirk.

Twilight approached her friends and was immediately assaulted in a spine-crunching hug from Pinkie Pie. “But not today, silly pony!"

“On one condition,” Twilight whispered, face turning a dark shade of blue. “You stop… squeezing my… lungs!”

“Okie dokie lokie!” Pinkie released Twilight, who sucked up air like a fish out of water. Attaching a party hat atop Twilight’s head, Pinkie clapped her hooves. “Oh goody, this is going to be the best party ever! We have cake and presents and music and dancing and even games!”

“Well, Pinkie, we know how excited ya get about parties,” Applejack chuckled, patting Pinkie on the back. “Might just wanna tone it down a wee bit. Well, at least until Twi can catch her breath.”

“Whoops!” Pinkie giggled. “I can do that.” Delicately placing Twilight back on her hooves, she bounced back towards the cake and plopped down on her rump, waiting patiently.

“Well… I really do wish I could say this was the first time this has happened…” Twilight scuffed at the floor with a forehoof, her cheeks tinged pink. “I mean, I know I tend to get caught up in my work a lot, but you think that this, of all things, should be something I’d remember.”

“Four times and counting,” Spike remarked from the pile of presents he was currently sorting through, pausing to give another one an experimental shake, listening to the rattle. “Back when she turned nine, she got so caught up in her book and was so quiet that Shining and her parents, considering the fact it was her birthday, thought she might’ve wandered off, and spent most of it out searching for her. Got half the guard in on it, too.”

Twilight facehoofed. “Spiiiiike!”

“‘The Great Canterlot Fillyhunt’, they called it.”

“SPIKE!” The dragon in question attempted to speak again, possibly to toss out another embarrassing tidbit, but quickly found that his lips seemed to be stuck together with a powerful magical force. Shooting Twilight an unimpressed glare, he returned to the business of rattling presents to the sounds of raucous laughter.

“Okay, okay. That’s enough of that, thank you very much, everypony.” Twilight shook her head, laughing to herself a little. “But on a more serious note… Thank you all so much, and I’m sorry. I know I can get wrapped up in things sometimes, and I really haven’t been paying as much attention to you all as I should… I’m glad I have such great friends to help me keep my hooves on the ground…” She paused a moment, glancing back towards her wings. “Well… metaphorically speaking, anyways.” She giggled. “I just—woah!”

For the second time in as many minutes, Twilight found herself lifted off the ground in a great big hug, but this time, Pinkie was joined by the rest of her friends, enveloping Twilight in a massive group hug. “Don’t you worry, Twi. That’s what friends are for.” Laughing, Twilight returned the hug as best she could.

“Oh, girls…”

As the display of affection was taking place, however, Spike found himself faced with a familiar sensation as his stomach gurgled.

Oh no…

Vaulting over the table with an agility born from panic, Spike rushed towards the group, gesturing furiously towards his mouth, trying to catch at least one of their attention before it was too late.

“Awww! Poor Spike! He wants a hug, too!” Pinkie noticed.

Spike facepalmed furiously. Finding himself swept up in the hug, Spike was powerless to stop what came next as the familiar rush of fire tried rushed up his throat, rebounded off his sealed lips, and forced its way up out through his nasal cavity in what could be considered the largest sneeze the group had ever seen.

Twenty minutes, multiple minor burned coats, and several dozen apologies later, Twilight finally finished extracting the slightly damp yet charred scroll from his nose, and unfurled it.

My Dearest Twilight Sparkle,

I would just like to take a moment to wish you a very happy birthday, and to tell you just how proud you make me each and every day. Thank you for all the wonderful moments you’ve given me over the years, and I hope that this year is just as good, if not better, than the last. Luna and I will try to make it to your party later in the day, so be sure to save a piece of cake (or five) for us in the meantime.

Your loving mentor,

Princess Celestia

Blinking back a tear, Twilight smiled. Her life had its ups and downs, that was for sure, but with her friends and mentor beside her, she felt that she could handle anything.

        Of course, as luck would have it, she was dead wrong.

Next Chapter: Chapter 2: Judges And No Jury Estimated time remaining: 24 Minutes