Cheerleader — Dredd

The perps of Sector 117 don't fear the standard Judge. A flat helmet, a stern jaw, a droning sentence to the Iso-Cubes—that’s predictable. But Cass? Cass smiles. She cartwheels through gunfire. She does a toe-touch jump just as a frag grenade detonates behind her, the explosion framing her silhouette like a high school yearbook photo from hell.

The Chief Judge once asked her: “Why the act? Why not just execute them cleanly?” cheerleader dredd

Rah. Rah. Rah.

Three of them dropped their weapons, laughing. The fourth hesitated, confused. That’s when she moved. The pom-poms whirred, spinning into a glittering cage of wire. She decapitated the leader with a high kick, then used his severed head as a prop for a spirit-finger chant: “Be aggressive! B-E aggressive! B-E-A-G-G-R-E-S-S-I-V-E!” The perps of Sector 117 don't fear the standard Judge