A Stroke of Luck


December 23rd, 2010.
After a very long day at work, you are finally on your way home, enjoying the gentle snowfall that is dancing around you and the pleasing sound of snow crunching beneath your feet. Thinking of the work-free festive season that lies ahead of you, you are suddenly surprised by the sight of a green-skinned being in a puffy parka jacket dashing from an alleyway ahead to sprint across the street, heading for a nearby towerblock. In his hurry, he fails to notice a slip of golden paper fall from his pocket and flutter to the ground behind him. Intrigued, you make your way over to retrieve the paper and, upon examination, notice it is an exclusive VIP invite to the "2000ad Christmas Blow-out 2010". Reading on, you see that the party is to be held at 7pm that very evening, in the "Nerve Centre". Looking up in amazement, you are just in time to catch sight of the green-skinned being - who you now realise must be Tharg - push his way through the large glass doors of the building opposite. Looking up still more, you notice a sign above the doors with the words "Nerve Centre" emblazoned upon it.

Do you...

Make your way to the Nerve Centre with the intention of returning the invitation, or...

Hurry home to have a wash and change your clothes, fully intent on using the pass to gain entry to the party?

On the Jazz



You return to the jazz bar and make your way through the tables as Anderson sings up a storm, dancing gracefully on the stage as the Judge musicians build their tune to a crescendo. You find it almost impossible to take your eyes off the blonde bombshell, bumping a number of seated patrons as you seek out a chair of your own. Before you know it you are up before the stage, where there is a single vacant - but cluttered - table. Sliding into a seat, you are surprised to find a nice, warm cushion beneath you...and even more surprised when the cushion yelps and pushes you off! Jerking upright, you look down to find a strange creature with a long nose and a coat of downy white hair all over its body staring up at you fearfully.



“Oh my poor heartses!” it gasps, clutching its chest. “You nearly crush me, Misters!” “I'm sorry!” you hiss, taking the seat alongside the Gronk, as you hear a note of anger creep into Anderson’s voice. You look up to find the Judge has stepped off the stage to stand before your table and is glaring at you as she sings. She places one hand on the table top and leans forward so her eyes draw level with yours, scowling as she continues her song. Mouthing the word “sorry”, you try your hardest to hold her gaze, but are too aware that in this position her breasts are spilling out of her low-cut dress. Desperately trying to resist the temptation, your resolve is broken when the Gronk peeks up over the edge of the table to get an eyeful, gasps “Oh my poor heartses!” again, and falls off his chair in a faint. That does it for you and you can’t help but drop your eyes to stare into Anderson's cleavage. Unbidden, you conjure up an image of what her uncovered breasts might look like...and that is all it takes. Anderson slaps the table and stands up straight, clicking her fingers at somebody behind you. “Bad move, creep,” a gravelly voice over your shoulder says. Swallowing hard, you feel the tap of a day-stick on your shoulder and know exactly who is standing there. Getting slowly to your feet, you turn to face your worst nightmare...and have to fight to suppress a laugh at how he has dressed, in a waiter's outfit, and carrying a bottle of wine on a tray!



Do you...

Face up to your faux pas and hope Dredd goes easy on you, or...

Make a drokking run for it!

Invitation to Wing



You head back to the bar and pick your way through the head-banging crowd to reach the counter, slipping into a gap you find there. “Beer!” you call, when the four-eyed barman - who you vaguely recognise but can’t put a name to - looks up. As you wait for your drink, you cast furtive glances left and right, searching for Halo, Toby or anybody acting suspicious but finding instead a couple of grumpy-looking individuals. One of them, with a messy black beard, greasy hair and an eye patch, is staring into his near empty glass, grumbling something about nuclear weapons and talking animals. The other, a less foul-smelling, well-groomed guy, is repeatedly closing his hand around an imaginary glass and pretending to lift it to his mouth. After a minute of this you see him reach out to take hold of a real glass, closing his fist too tightly around it so it shatters and spills its contents all over an already sticky counter. “Balls!” the clean-shaven man shouts, slamming his fist down and crushing an imprint into the counter-top. “Stupid bloody hyper-power!” Looking away quickly you are surprised to come face to face with someone you DO recognise – a guy about your age wearing a black mask, a leather jacket, and a shirt with a big ‘Z’ on it.



“Alright mate!” he gushes, extending his hand. You take it in awe and shake it, amazed to be standing face to face with one of your heros. “I’m Zenith!” he says, as if you need to be told. “I know,” you reply. “You're great!” “That's as may be, but I still need a wingman from time to time, and it just so happens I need your help right now.” “Me?” “Sure, you look half-normal, compared to the rest of the freaks here. And you’re almost good-looking – but not as much as me, which is important. There’s this chick I’m tryna score but she’s stuck to her buddy like a lesbian band-aid and I can’t seem to separate them. I need someone to go in with me and distract one while I get the other! You down with that? Yeah? Groovy, let’s go!” Before you can object, Zenith has grabbed you by the arm and pulled you away from the bar, out onto the dance-floor. He shoulders his way through the crowd to get to the far side, where a couple of tables and stools are positioned in booth-like alcoves. “That’s them!” he says, pointing to one, where two young ladies sit closely together, one with dark, cropped hair in a tight-fitting dress, the other altogether more feral looking with wild, flowing locks and a dress that seems to be made of animal hide.



You notice the first girl has a gun on her seat, while the warrior woman has a huge sword propped up beside her. “Which one are you after?” you ask Zenith, a question that is met with a casual shrug of the shoulders. “I don’t mind!” Zenith replies. “I’d do ‘em both! You pick!”

Do you...

Decide to chat up the girl with the gun, or...

Plump for the busty warrior woman instead?

On the Jazz



You return to the jazz bar and make your way through the tables as Anderson sings up a storm, dancing gracefully on the stage as the Judge musicians build their tune to a crescendo. You find it almost impossible to take your eyes off the blonde bombshell, bumping a number of seated patrons as you seek out a chair of your own. Before you know it you are up before the stage, where there is a single vacant - but cluttered - table. Sliding into a seat, you are surprised to find a nice, warm cushion beneath you...and even more surprised when the cushion yelps and pushes you off! Jerking upright, you look down to find a strange creature with a long nose and a coat of downy white hair all over its body staring up at you fearfully.



“Oh my poor heartses!” it gasps, clutching its chest. “You nearly crush me, Misters!” “I'm sorry!” you hiss, taking the seat alongside the Gronk, as you hear a note of anger creep into Anderson’s voice. You look up to find the Judge has stepped off the stage to stand before your table and is glaring at you as she sings. She places one hand on the table top and leans forward so her eyes draw level with yours, scowling as she continues her song. Mouthing the word “sorry”, you try your hardest to hold her gaze, but are too aware that in this position her breasts are spilling out of her low-cut dress. Desperately trying to resist the temptation, your resolve is broken when the Gronk peeks up over the edge of the table to get an eyeful, gasps “Oh my poor heartses!” again, and falls off his chair in a faint. That does it for you and you can’t help but drop your eyes to stare into Anderson's cleavage. Unbidden, you conjure up an image of what her uncovered breasts might look like...and that is all it takes. Anderson slaps the table and stands up straight, clicking her fingers at somebody behind you. “Bad move, creep,” a gravelly voice over your shoulder says. Swallowing hard, you feel the tap of a day-stick on your shoulder and know exactly who is standing there. Getting slowly to your feet, you turn to face your worst nightmare...and have to fight to suppress a laugh at how he has dressed, in a waiter's outfit, and carrying a bottle of wine on a tray!



Do you...

Face up to your faux pas and hope Dredd goes easy on you, or...

Make a drokking run for it!

Invitation to Wing



You head back to the bar and pick your way through the head-banging crowd to reach the counter, slipping into a gap you find there. “Beer!” you call, when the four-eyed barman - who you vaguely recognise but can’t put a name to - looks up. As you wait for your drink, you cast furtive glances left and right, searching for Halo or Toby but finding a couple of grumpy-looking individuals. One of them, with a messy black beard, greasy hair and an eye patch, is staring into his near empty glass, grumbling something about nuclear weapons and talking animals. The other, a less foul-smelling, well-groomed guy, is repeatedly closing his hand around an imaginary glass and pretending to lift it to his mouth. After a minute of this you see him reach out to take hold of a real glass, closing his fist too tightly around it so it shatters and spills its contents all over an already sticky counter. “Balls!” the clean-shaven man shouts, slamming his fist down and crushing an imprint into the counter-top. “Stupid bloody hyper-power!” Looking away quickly you are surprised to come face to face with someone you DO recognise – a guy about your age wearing a black mask, a leather jacket, and a shirt with a big ‘Z’ on it.



“Alright mate!” he gushes, extending his hand. You take it in awe and shake it, amazed to be standing face to face with one of your heros. “I’m Zenith!” he says, as if you need to be told. “I know,” you reply. “You're great!” “That's as may be, but I still need a wingman from time to time, and it just so happens I need your help right now.” “Me?” “Sure, you look half-normal, compared to the rest of the freaks here. And you’re almost good-looking – but not as much as me, which is important. There’s this chick I’m tryna score but she’s stuck to her buddy like a lesbian band-aid and I can’t seem to separate them. I need someone to go in with me and distract one while I get the other! You down with that? Yeah? Groovy, let’s go!” Before you can object, Zenith has grabbed you by the arm and pulled you away from the bar, out onto the dance-floor. He shoulders his way through the crowd to get to the far side, where a couple of tables and stools are positioned in booth-like alcoves. “That’s them!” he says, pointing to one, where two young ladies sit closely together, one with dark, cropped hair in a tight-fitting dress, the other altogether more feral looking with wild, flowing locks and a dress that seems to be made of animal hide.



You notice the first girl has a gun on her seat, while the warrior woman has a huge sword propped up beside her. “Which one are you after?” you ask Zenith, a question that is met with a casual shrug of the shoulders. “I don’t mind!” Zenith replies. “I’d do ‘em both! You pick!”

Do you...

Decide to chat up the girl with the gun, or...

Plump for the busty warrior woman instead?

On the Jazz



You return to the jazz bar and make your way through the tables as Anderson sings up a storm, dancing gracefully on the stage as the Judge musicians build their tune to a crescendo. You make your way through the tables as Anderson sings up a storm, dancing gracefully on the stage as the Judge musicians build their jazz to a crescendo. You find it almost impossible to take your eyes off the blonde bombshell, bumping a number of seated patrons as you seek out a chair of your own. Before you know it you are up before the stage, where there is a single vacant - but cluttered - table. Sliding into a seat, you are surprised to find a nice, warm cushion beneath you...and even more surprised when the cushion yelps and pushes you off! Jerking upright, you look down to find a strange creature with a long nose and a coat of downy white hair all over its body staring up at you fearfully.



“Oh my poor heartses!” it gasps, clutching its chest. “You nearly crush me, Misters!” “I'm sorry!” you hiss, taking the seat alongside the Gronk, as you hear a note of anger creep into Anderson’s voice. You look up to find the Judge has stepped off the stage to stand before your table and is glaring at you as she sings. She places one hand on the table top and leans forward so her eyes draw level with yours, scowling as she continues her song. Mouthing the word “sorry”, you try your hardest to hold her gaze, but are too aware that in this position her breasts are spilling out of her low-cut dress. Desperately trying to resist the temptation, your resolve is broken when the Gronk peeks up over the edge of the table to get an eyeful, gasps “Oh my poor heartses!” again, and falls off his chair in a faint. That does it for you and you can’t help but drop your eyes to stare into Anderson's cleavage. Unbidden, you conjure up an image of what her uncovered breasts might look like...and that is all it takes. Anderson slaps the table and stands up straight, clicking her fingers at somebody behind you. “Bad move, creep,” a gravelly voice over your shoulder says. Swallowing hard, you feel the tap of a day-stick on your shoulder and know exactly who is standing there. Getting slowly to your feet, you turn to face your worst nightmare...and have to fight to suppress a laugh at how he has dressed, in a waiter's outfit, and carrying a bottle of wine on a tray!



Do you...

Face up to your faux pas and hope Dredd goes easy on you, or...

Make a drokking run for it!

Invitation to Wing



You head back to the bar and pick your way through the head-banging crowd to reach the counter, slipping into a gap you find there. “Beer!” you call, when the four-eyed barman - who you vaguely recognise but can’t put a name to - looks up. As you wait for your drink, you cast furtive glances left and right, noting two grumpy looking individuals. One of them, with a messy black beard, greasy hair and an eye patch, is staring into his near empty glass, grumbling something about nuclear weapons and talking animals. The other, a less foul-smelling, well-groomed guy, is repeatedly closing his hand around an imaginary glass and pretending to lift it to his mouth. After a minute of this you see him reach out to take hold of a real glass, closing his fist too tightly around it so it shatters and spills its contents all over an already sticky counter. “Balls!” the clean-shaven man shouts, slamming his fist down and crushing an imprint into the counter-top. “Stupid bloody hyper-power!” Looking away quickly you are surprised to come face to face with someone you DO recognise – a guy about your age wearing a black mask, a leather jacket, and a shirt with a big ‘Z’ on it. Unfortunately, it doesn't stand for 'Zrag'.



“Alright mate!” he gushes, extending his hand. You take it in awe and shake it, amazed to be standing face to face with one of your heros. “I’m Zenith!” he says, as if you need to be told. “I know,” you reply. “You're great!” “That's as may be, but I still need a wingman from time to time, and it just so happens I need your help right now.” “Me?” “Sure, you look half-normal, compared to the rest of the freaks here. And you’re almost good-looking – but not as much as me, which is important. There’s this chick I’m tryna score but she’s stuck to her buddy like a lesbian band-aid and I can’t seem to separate them. I need someone to go in with me and distract one while I get the other! You down with that? Yeah? Groovy, let’s go!” Before you can object, Zenith has grabbed you by the arm and pulled you away from the bar, out onto the dance-floor. He shoulders his way through the crowd to get to the far side, where a couple of tables and stools are positioned in booth-like alcoves. “That’s them!” he says, pointing to one, where two young ladies sit closely together, one with dark, cropped hair in a tight-fitting dress, the other altogether more feral looking with wild, flowing locks and a dress that seems to be made of animal hide.



You notice the first girl has a gun on her chair, while the warrior woman has a huge sword propped against the wall behind her. “Which one are you after?” you ask Zenith, a question that is met with a casual shrug of the shoulders “I don’t mind!” Zenith replies. “I’d do ‘em both! You pick!”

Do you...

Decide to chat up the girl with the gun, or...

Plump for the busty warrior woman instead?

On the Jazz



You return to the jazz bar and make your way through the tables as Anderson sings up a storm, dancing gracefully on the stage as the Judge musicians build their tune to a crescendo. You find it almost impossible to take your eyes off the blonde bombshell, bumping a number of seated patrons as you seek out a chair of your own. Before you know it you are up before the stage, where there is a single vacant - but cluttered - table. Sliding into a seat, you are surprised to find a nice, warm cushion beneath you...and even more surprised when the cushion yelps and pushes you off! Jerking upright, you look down to find a strange creature with a long nose and a coat of downy white hair all over its body staring up at you fearfully.



“Oh my poor heartses!” it gasps, clutching its chest. “You nearly crush me, Misters!” “I'm sorry!” you hiss, taking the seat alongside the Gronk, as you hear a note of anger creep into Anderson’s voice. You look up to find the Judge has stepped off the stage to stand before your table and is glaring at you as she sings. She places one hand on the table top and leans forward so her eyes draw level with yours, scowling as she continues her song. Mouthing the word “sorry”, you try your hardest to hold her gaze, but are too aware that in this position her breasts are spilling out of her low-cut dress. Desperately trying to resist the temptation, your resolve is broken when the Gronk peeks up over the edge of the table to get an eyeful, gasps “Oh my poor heartses!” again, and falls off his chair in a faint. That does it for you and you can’t help but drop your eyes to stare into Anderson's cleavage. Unbidden, you conjure up an image of what her uncovered breasts might look like...and that is all it takes. Anderson slaps the table and stands up straight, clicking her fingers at somebody behind you. “Bad move, creep,” a gravelly voice over your shoulder says. Swallowing hard, you feel the tap of a day-stick on your shoulder and know exactly who is standing there. Getting slowly to your feet, you turn to face your worst nightmare...and have to fight to suppress a laugh at how he has dressed, in a waiter's outfit, and carrying a bottle of wine on a tray!



Do you...

Face up to your faux pas and hope Dredd goes easy on you, or...

Make a drokking run for it!

Invitation to Wing



You head back to the bar and pick your way through the head-banging crowd to reach the counter, slipping into a gap you find there. “Beer!” you call, when the four-eyed barman - who you vaguely recognise but can’t put a name to - looks up. As you wait for your drink, you cast furtive glances left and right, noting two grumpy looking individuals. One of them, with a messy black beard, greasy hair and an eye patch, is staring into his near empty glass, grumbling something about nuclear weapons and talking animals. The other, a less foul-smelling, well-groomed guy, is repeatedly closing his hand around an imaginary glass and pretending to lift it to his mouth. After a minute of this you see him reach out to take hold of a real glass, closing his fist too tightly around it so it shatters and spills its contents all over an already sticky counter. “Balls!” the clean-shaven man shouts, slamming his fist down and crushing an imprint into the counter-top. “Stupid bloody hyper-power!” Looking away quickly you are surprised to come face to face with someone you DO recognise – a guy about your age wearing a black mask, a leather jacket, and a shirt with a big ‘Z’ on it.



“Alright mate!” he gushes, extending his hand. You take it in awe and shake it, amazed to be standing face to face with one of your heros. “I’m Zenith!” he says, as if you need to be told. “I know,” you reply. “You're great!” “That's as may be, but I still need a wingman from time to time, and it just so happens I need your help right now.” “Me?” “Sure, you look half-normal, compared to the rest of the freaks here. And you’re almost good-looking – but not as much as me, which is important. There’s this chick I’m tryna score but she’s stuck to her buddy like a lesbian band-aid and I can’t seem to separate them. I need someone to go in with me and distract one while I get the other! You down with that? Yeah? Groovy, let’s go!” Before you can object, Zenith has grabbed you by the arm and pulled you away from the bar, out onto the dance-floor. He shoulders his way through the crowd to get to the far side, where a couple of tables and stools are positioned in booth-like alcoves. “That’s them!” he says, pointing to one, where two young ladies sit closely together, one with dark, cropped hair in a tight-fitting dress, the other altogether more feral looking with wild, flowing locks and a dress that seems to be made of animal hide.



You notice the first girl has a gun on her chair, while the warrior woman has a huge sword propped against the wall behind her. “Which one are you after?” you ask Zenith, a question that is met with a casual shrug of the shoulders “I don’t mind!” Zenith replies. “I’d do ‘em both! You pick!”

Do you...

Decide to chat up the girl with the gun, or...

Plump for the hot warrior woman instead?

The Great Escape



Certain now that being here is a mistake, you decide to cut your losses and get out while you can. Dashing past the overgrown ape, you burst into the hall and run hell for leather back the way you came, skidding into the broom closet and dropping down on your hands and knees to crawl into one of the tunnels. Scrabbling through the narrow, earthen passage, you strain your eyes against the dark but are unable to make out a single thing. What seems like an eternity passes as you move forward, until the ground disappears beneath you and you plunge into empty space! You cry out as you tumble a short distance before coming to a jarring halt, splashing down into a shallow body of water. Which isn't water at all, your nose soon discovers. Even as your eyes grow accustomed to the dark - which isn't as all-consuming as the tunnel you just left, due to an opening in the roof ahead that allows a small amount of light into the area - the stench and sound of rats chittering informs you that you are now a guest in the local sewers.



Wishing not to outstay your welcome, you get to your feet and splash your way towards the open manhole cover, finding a ladder attached to the wall beneath it and quickly climbing up to fresh air and safety. Pulling yourself up out of the hole, you find yourself in an alleyway at the side of the Nerve Centre building and breath a sigh of relief. That is, until you remember the Dictators' plot, and Toby still on the loose. You are just about to run around to the front door to raise hell and attract some attention when a massive snowball whacks you in the face. "Hey!" you gasp, wiping snow from your eyes and scooping up more to retaliate. When you see where the snowball came from, however, and who threw it, you quickly change your mind, dropping your half-made projectile and turning to run.



"Sh-sh-sh-ka-ka-kara!!!!!" the alien robot thing standing nearby shouts, hurling another three snowballs at your back as you flee. Enough is enough, you think, knowing when you are out of your depth. 2000ad christmas party? Toby can wreak as much havoc as he wants and the Dictators can blow it all up if they want, you decide, as you make your way across the street to the nearest bus stop, hop the first bus that comes along and set off on the long journey home.

The End.

Ace of Cakes

Fearing the hulking behemoth will clobber you if you say no (you can tell from his tone and the way he is holding the spoon that ‘no’ is not an option) you decide to play along. “Yes. The Mighty One sent me to help,” you say, taking the spoon from the G.B.H and smiling. “Great!” says another voice, and you turn to find a pointy-headed alien and a tiny skeletoid at a table, attempting to assemble a cake mixture and failing miserably.



“Ace Garp,” you say aloud, before you can catch yourself. “That’s my handle, good buddy, don’t wear it out! I sure hopes you knows how to make a cake! Old frogface wants one for the party but we keep messing up! We’s gonna be in the crapper if we can’t figger this out...” “You be in crapper, Ace, your fault we here,” says the skeletoid, whose name you remember is Feek. “Try to sneak-peek Christmas present in Mighty One office, no heehee!” “Can it, bony buddy! Sheesh, what’s with the aggro, I helped you fellas out. You wuz gonna buy that new Justin Bieber CD tomorrow and then you would have had two of them! And G.B.H was gonna get a haircut but now he can wait for his voucher and get it free! You guys have no appreciation for ol’ Garp the Barp, do you?” “I appreciate you, Ace,” G.B.H says, pulling on some oversize oven gloves and moving to open the oven. Thick plumes of black smoke waft out and fill the kitchen. “I appreciate you’re really bad at cooking.” ”No heehee!” Feek cries again, smashing his head on the tabletop. “There goes another one!” Realising if you ever want to get out of here and onto the trail of the Dictators' imposter you’re going to have to take charge of the situation, you grab the cookbook from Ace’s scarf and get to work organising a cake. It takes a bit of time, but exactly one hour later you find yourself putting the finishing touches to (if you do say so yourself) a damn fine three-tier sponge! “What now?” you ask, as G.B.H fetches the catering trolley and Feek the Freek loads the cake. “Now we take it to the dining room!” Ace gushes. “There should be some guests there by now, we can mingle with the stars and get some autygraphs! Let’s go, truckin’ buddies!” You let Ace and Co. take the lead as you leave the kitchen, following the merry bunch of weirdos through a number of winding corridors until you spot a locked door with a laminated card stuck to it and a card reader set in the wall alongside. The wording on the card reads: "Party Access. Scan Invite to Enter." Ace and the others walk past this door, bemoaning the fact they don't have their own tickets and have to work their way in. They don't notice what you do, that there is already an invitation in the card reader slot. Saying nothing, you allow yourself to fall behind and wait until the others turn a corner before doubling back to the door to investigate. Noticing bite marks in the protruding end, you realise this is the invite Toby took from you... Retrieving the invitation, you re-scan it to unlock the door and slip through into a short passageway. Hurrying along it you arrive at an intersecting corridor that stretches left and right away from you. Sounds of music and partying reach your ears, coming from both directions, and its clear that the party is in full swing. The question is...which way did Toby go, and where could the imposter be?

Do you...

Go left, or...

Go right?

Another Fine Mess

Leaving the men and the zombies at each other's throats, you rush to the door and charge back out into the hall, narrowly slipping past Defoe and Zombo.



Not pausing for breath you run, panting, through the corridor, past the stairwell door, past the janitor's closet, and on, until you come to an elevator and finally slow to a halt. Leaning against the wall to catch your breath, you hear a banging noise coming from a room ahead, just beyond the elevator doors. What now? you wonder, as you start to move forward again, against your better judgement. This is a big mistake, you think, your heart pounding in your chest. You should really call it a day, get out through the tunnels in the broom closet. You should...but you don't, the clattering of what seems to be pots and pans hypnotising you and calling you onward to a swing door in the wall. Cautiously, you slide one hand onto the cold metal panel and push it open just a crack. A great commotion is occurring within. You crane your neck to peer into the room...but just then, the door is jerked fully open and a monstrous hand slaps down on your head, lifting you off the ground and hauling you inside. You twist and wriggle, trying to get free, but to no avail. Once you are fully inside the room, the hand releases you, dumping you unceremoniously onto the floor. Looking up, you find a hideous beast with a wild flowing mane of hair and dark sunken eyes staring down at you. The creature is dressed in a dark blue boiler suit with the letters G.B.H embroidered on it, and is wearing a dirty apron and a crumpled chef’s hat. “You here to help with the cooking?” it drones, extending a hand and offering you a gooey wooden spoon.

Do you...

Say yes, you are here to help and take the spoon, or...

Call it a day and make a run for it for those tunnels?

The Great Escape



Certain now that being here is a mistake, you decide to cut your losses and get out while you can. Dashing past the overgrown ape, you burst into the hall and run hell for leather back the way you came, skidding into the broom closet and dropping down on your hands and knees to crawl into one of the tunnels. Scrabbling through the narrow, earthen passage, you strain your eyes against the dark but are unable to make out a single thing. What seems like an eternity passes as you move forward, until the ground suddenly disappears beneath you and you plunge into empty space! You cry out as you tumble a short distance before coming to a jarring halt, splashing down into a shallow body of water. Which isn't water at all, your nose soon discovers. Even as your eyes grow accustomed to the dark - which isn't as all-consuming as the tunnel you just left, due to an opening in the roof ahead that allows a small amount of light into the area - the stench and sound of rats chittering informs you that you are now a guest in the local sewers.



Wishing not to outstay your welcome, you get to your feet and splash your way towards the open manhole cover, finding a ladder attached to the wall beneath it and quickly climbing up to fresh air and safety. Pulling yourself up out of the hole, you find yourself in an alleyway at the side of the Nerve Centre building and breath a sigh of relief. That is, until you remember that Toby is still on the loose. You are just about to run around to the front door to raise hell and attract some attention when a snowball whacks you in the face. "Hey!" you gasp, wiping snow from your eyes and scooping up more to retaliate. When you see where the snowball came from, however, and who threw it, you quickly change your mind, dropping your half-made projectile and turning to run.



"Sh-sh-sh-ka-ka-kara!!!!!" the alien robot thing standing nearby shouts, hurling another three snowballs at your back as you flee. Enough is enough, you think, knowing when you are out of your depth. 2000ad christmas party? Toby can wreak as much havoc as he wants, you decide, as you make your way across the street to the nearest bus stop, hop the first bus that comes along and set off on the long journey home.

The End.

Ace of Cakes

Fearing the hulking behemoth (who you recognise as the biffo from Ace Trucking Co.) will clobber you if you say no (you can tell from his tone and the way he is holding the spoon that ‘no’ is not an option) you decide to play along. “Yes. The Mighty One sent me to help,” you say, taking the spoon from G.B.H and smiling. “Great!” says another voice, and you turn to find a pointy-headed alien and a tiny skeletoid at a table, attempting to assemble a cake mixture and failing miserably.



“Ace Garp,” you say aloud, before you can catch yourself. “That’s my handle, good buddy, don’t wear it out! I sure hopes you knows how to make a cake! Old frogface wants one for the party but we keep messing up! We’s gonna be in the crapper if we can’t figger this out...” “You be in crapper, Ace, your fault we here,” says the skeletoid, whose name you remember is Feek. “Try to sneak-peek Christmas present in Mighty One office, no heehee!” “Can it, bony buddy! Sheesh, what’s with the aggro, I helped you fellas out. You wuz gonna buy that new Justin Bieber CD tomorrow and then you would have had two of them! And G.B.H was gonna get a haircut but now he can wait for his voucher and get it free! You guys have no appreciation for ol’ Garp the Barp, do you?” “I appreciate you, Ace,” G.B.H says, pulling on some oversize oven gloves and moving to open the oven. Thick plumes of black smoke waft out and fill the kitchen. “I appreciate you’re really bad at cooking.” ”No heehee!” Feek cries again, smashing his head on the tabletop. “There goes another one!” Realising if you ever want to get out of here and back on Toby's trail you’re going to have to take charge of the situation, you grab the cookbook from Ace’s scarf and get to work organising a cake. It takes a bit of time, but exactly one hour later you find yourself putting the finishing touches to (if you do say so yourself) a damn fine three-tier sponge! “What now?” you ask, as G.B.H fetches the catering trolley and Feek the Freek loads the cake. “Now we take it to the dining room!” Ace gushes. “There should be some guests there by now, we can mingle with the stars and get some autygraphs! Let’s go, truckin’ buddies!” You let Ace and Co. take the lead as you leave the kitchen, following the merry bunch of weirdos through a number of winding corridors until you spot a locked door with a laminated card stuck to it and a card reader set in the wall alongside. The wording on the card reads: "Party Access. Scan Invite to Enter." Ace and the others walk past this door, bemoaning the fact they don't have their own tickets and have to work their way in. They don't notice what you do, that there is already an invitation in the card reader slot. Saying nothing, you allow yourself to fall behind and wait until the others turn a corner before doubling back to the door to investigate. Noticing bite marks in the protruding end, you realise this is the invite Toby took from you... Retrieving the invitation, you re-scan it to unlock the door and slip through into a short passageway. Hurrying along it you arrive at an intersecting corridor that stretches left and right away from you. Sounds of music and partying reach your ears, coming from both directions, and its clear that the party is in full swing. The question is...which way did Toby go?

Do you...

Go left, or...

Go right?

Another Fine Mess

Leaving the men and the zombies at each other's throats, you rush to the door and charge back out into the hall, narrowly slipping past Defoe and Zombo.



Not pausing for breath you run, panting, through the corridor, past the stairwell door, past the janitor's closet, and on, until you come to an elevator and finally slow to a halt. Leaning against the wall to catch your breath, you hear a banging noise coming from a room ahead, just beyond the elevator doors. What now? you wonder, as you start to move forward, against your better judgement. This is a big mistake, you think, your heart pounding in your chest. You should really call it a day, get out through the tunnels in the broom closet. You should...but you don't, the clattering of what seems to be pots and pans hypnotising you and calling you onward to a swing door in the wall. Cautiously, you slide one hand onto the cold metal panel and push it open just a crack. A great commotion is occurring within.You crane your neck to peer into the room...but just then, the door is jerked fully open and a monstrous hand slaps down on your head, lifting you off the ground and hauling you inside. You twist and wriggle, trying to get free, but to no avail. Once you are fully inside the room, the hand releases you, dumping you unceremoniously onto the floor. Looking up, you find a hideous beast with a wild flowing mane of hair and dark sunken eyes staring down at you. The creature is dressed in a dark blue boiler suit with the letters G.B.H embroidered on it, and is wearing a dirty apron and a crumpled chef’s hat. “You here to help with the cooking?” it drones, extending a hand and offering you a gooey wooden spoon.

Do you...

Say yes, you are here to help and take the spoon, or...

Call it a day and run for those tunnels?

Access All Areas

Leaving the men and the zombies at each other's throats, you rush to the door and charge back out into the hall, narrowly slipping past Defoe and Zombo.



Not pausing for breath you run, panting, through the corridor, past the janitor's closet, past the elevator, and back to the kitchen, where you are just in time to catch Ace and Co leaving.



"There you are," G.B.H says, as he pushes a catering trolley out through the door. Your cake is in place on the trolley, Feek sitting up alongside it. "Thought you ran out on us." "No," you gasp, shaking your head. You don't want to tell them about the nightmare you just escaped from, don't even want to think about it. "The, um, toilet was pretty far away... So, uhh, what now?” “Now we take this baby to the dining room!” Ace gushes. “There should be some guests here by now, if we can sneak into the party we can mingle with the stars and get some autygraphs! Let’s go, truckin’ buddies!” You let Ace and Co. take the lead as you leave the kitchen, following the merry bunch of weirdos through a number of winding corridors until you spot a locked door with a laminated card stuck to it and a card reader set in the wall alongside. The wording on the card reads: "Party Access. Scan Invite to Enter." Ace and the others walk past this door, bemoaning the fact they don't have their own tickets and have to work their way in, but since you do, you allow yourself to fall behind and wait until they have turned a corner before doubling back and scanning your invite at the door. Gaining access, you enter a new passageway and hurry down to an intersecting corridor, which runs left and right away from you. Sounds of music and partying reach your ears from both directions. The question is...where on Earth might the imposter be?

Do you...

Go left,or...

Go right?

CREDITS


STORY: Van Dom


LOGO: Mike Carroll


ILLUSTRATIONS:

Tharg: Nicolas Bannwarth

Rojaws: Matt Soffe

Sinister Dexter: Staticgirl

Dictators of Zrag: Bolt-01

Toby and Hoagy: Dave Candlish

Tharg and Tyranny Rex: Kevin Levell

Tharg and Jena: Johnny McMonagle

Ace Trucking Co: Liam Byrne

Zombo, Artie Gruber and Shako: Malcolm Kirk

Bill Savage, Rogue Trooper and Defoe: Bruce McClaren

Cassandra Anderson: Chris Askham

Slaine on stage: Elchivo

The Gronk: BMB

Zenith, Meltdown Man and MACH 1: Filip Roncone

Judge Dredd: Owen Watts

Samantha Slade and Niamh: Tony Rothwell

Halo Jones: David Blankley

Slaine warp spasm: Louis Carter

Johnny Alpha: Dark Jimbo

Dirty Frank and Nemesis: Dave Hedmark

Hammerstein and Nikolai Dante: David Withers

Defoe and Zombo: Woolly

Toby: Brigonos Mac Giolla Chomhgaill

Durham Red: David Blankley

Jazz Robot: Bhuna Roche

Snazz Robot: Steven Denton

Stogie: Mike Carroll

Wulf: Brigonos Mac Giolla Chomhgaill

Shakara: Darren Stephens


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Who Let The Dog Out?



As much as you feel you should run and get Dredd, you're afraid if you don't do something fast Toby will have his way with Halo. Against your better judgement, you rush into the warehouse, watching Halo reach the bottom of the aisle she is fleeing down and skid around a corner out of sight. With no plan in mind and no idea what you can do to stop the crazed canine, you run after Toby as he chases Halo, reaching the back of the warehouse mere seconds after her. "Give it up, girlie!" he growls, turning the corner as he gains on his prey. "You can't get away, you're meals on wheels!" As you run through the aisle, a soft swooshing sound from the other side of the rack reaches your ears, accompanied by some laboured breathing. Coming to a halt, you stare through the stacks of boxes and comics on the shelves and catch a glimpse of Halo as she skates past, heading back towards the entrance. "I seeeee you!" you hear Toby say, also on the other side of the rack, the skittering of his claws on the floor growing louder as he closes the distance between himself and Halo. Suddenly, you have an idea, the only one you're going to have, and you act instantly, reaching out to grab hold of the shelving unit before you...and push it forwards. It takes every ounce of your strength to tilt the thing back but somehow - you do it, and just in the nick of time. As Toby comes into sight on the other side of the rack, skidding to a halt as he senses your presence and jerking his head to stare through the boxes, gravity takes over and the shelving unit topples. Realising too late what is happening, Toby tries to leap clear - but the huge boxes and piles of magazines are already raining from the shelves down on top of him, stopping him in his tracks and knocking him flat. "No!" he barks, trying to scrabble clear, to no avail. The rack collapses on top of him, burying him in an avalanche of cardboard, paper, and metal slats. When it has all come to rest on top of him, and the crashing sounds have faded, a hand touches your shoulder, and you turn to find yourself up close and personal with Halo. "Thanks," she says. "I don't know who you are but...thanks. That was cool of you." "Umm...no problem," you shrug. "Was the least I could do. I'm more of a cat person." Halo smiles, the ice broken. "Yeah, me too. Say...old Stoneyface is probably gonna be here soon, blowing off steam, and this party sucks. You wanna...I dunno...go somewhere?" "Sure. Like...where?" "I don't know, just...out." "Okay. What do you want to do?" A twinkle in her eye, Halo takes you by the hand and begins to lead you from the storage room. "Everything," she says, with a mischievous wink and a coy smile. Smiling back, you follow her to the elevator in the corridor outside.

And then you go out.

And do everything.

The End.

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Don't Interrupt a Man When He's Working...

Certain there is nothing you can do to stop Toby, you turn away from the door and race down the hall in the direction Dredd and Halo were heading. Sounds of brawling reach your ears as you run, making short work of the distance and soon reaching a bar that is in uproar, filled with a mob of angry, warring people. You seek out Dredd and spot him wading his way to the centre of the dance-floor, his day-stick hard at work cracking heads. You spot Slaine in the thick of it all, warped into a gigantic lumbering beast, swinging a christmas tree and knocking lumps out of anybody who gets into range.



You see Slaine's wife Niamh throwing a punch at a lumpy-headed mutant, who ducks so her fist plows into the face of a huge man with a half metal skull and a dial on his forehead. The Mean Machine roars, turning his dial up to 4 and charging, scattering everyone in his path. "This is chaos," you gasp, climbing onto a bar table and lifting your hands to your mouth. "Judge Dredd!" you cry, shouting to be heard above the din of the brawl. But Dredd is busy battling some mutants and doesn't hear you. "Judge Dredd!" you try again, jumping to the next table, and then the next, kicking beer bottles and glasses out of your way as you attempt to get closer. Still, Dredd doesn't hear you, occupied now with fighting off some robots that are trying to drag him down. Aware that time is ticking away and that Toby may have already got his claws into Halo, you grab a beer bottle from the table you are on and hurl it as hard as you can... Your aim is true. The bottle smashes into Dredd's helmet, shattering and spraying him with beer and fragments of glass. He jerks his head in your direction. You raise your arms high above your head to wave and get his attention. "Judge Dredd!" you call, for the third time. "Over here, quick, I need your help with a crazy do..." You never get to finish the sentence, as Dredd swings up his lawgiver and pulls the trigger, a bullet punching you in the chest and sending you flying from the table back out into the hall. Crashing to the floor and skidding along a slick of your own blood to come to rest against the wall, your final thought is: "Damnit, I failed..." and then, with a final heartbeat...you are gone.

The End.

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Don't Interrupt a Man When He's Working...

Certain there is nothing you can do to stop the demented Toby, you turn away from the door and sprint back the way you came, returning to the bar as sounds of fighting and screaming continue to flood out. Skidding to a halt in the doorway, you seek out Dredd and find that he has already waded his way to the centre of the dance-floor, where his day-stick is hard at work cracking heads. You get up on a bar table and lift your hands to your mouth, shouting to be heard above the din of the brawling. "Judge Dredd!" you cry, but Dredd is busy battling some mutants and doesn't hear you. "Judge Dredd!" you try again, jumping to the next table, and then the next, kicking beer bottles and glasses out of your way as you attempt to get closer. Still, Dredd doesn't hear you, occupied now with fighting off some robots who are trying to drag him down. Aware that time is ticking away and that Toby may have already got his claws into Halo, you grab a beer bottle from the table you are on and hurl it as hard as you can... Your aim is true. The bottle smashes into Dredd's helmet, shattering and spraying him with beer and fragments of glass. He jerks his head in your direction. You raise your arms high above your head to wave and get his attention. "Judge Dredd!" you call, for the third time. "Over here, quick, I need your help with a crazy do..." You never get to finish the sentence, as Dredd swings up his lawgiver and pulls the trigger, a bullet punching you in the chest and sending you flying from the table back out into the hall. Crashing to the floor and skidding along a slick of your own blood to come to rest against the wall, your final thought is: "Damnit, I failed..." and then, with a final heartbeat...you are gone.

The End.

VIEW CREDITS: Click here