He stood on the 200th floor observation deck, his visor sweeping the horizon. The city’s usual scream of sirens was a distant whine. The perp—a juicer called Mister Murmur—had been dealt with. His head was a fine red mist three floors down.
Dredd finally looked at her. The visor hid his eyes, but she felt the weight anyway. “You’re not here to psychoanalyze me, Cadet. You’re here to scan for residual psychic traps. Did you find any?” dredd and stella
“What’s that?”
“I felt you,” he said. “You were afraid. Not of Murmur. Of me. And you touched me anyway.” He turned and walked toward the elevator. “That’s not a disease. That’s courage. Don’t lose it.” He stood on the 200th floor observation deck,
