Dredd

Judge Dredd: Mega City One. A sprawling concrete jungle stretching from Boston to Washington DC. Outside these walls, a nuclear wasteland bearing silent testament to the fact that playing chicken with the Soviets Iran was a bad idea. Inside, an open sewer of human failure. Ninety-nine percent unemployment. Food riots. Rationed health care. Violence, pornography, and drugs are the only refuge for the hope-starved masses. There is only one solution to this nightmare, only one way to lift the people of this city up from their squalor: shoot them in the face with exploding bullets. I am the man carrying those exploding bullets, and this is my story.

Judge Dredd: Control, this is Dredd! I am attempting to perform a routine traffic stop, but the suspects are uncooperative!

Control: Dredd, this is control. Did this traffic stop involve you shouting “I AM THE LAW” and shooting at everyone in the area?

Judge Dredd: Of course, control! I said it was routine!

Control: Dredd, do you require backup? Or perhaps warm milk and a nap?

Judge Dredd: Negative, control. Justice is my milk, and the long years served by jaywalkers and other felons is my nap time. I’ll handle this … my way.

Control: Sigh. All right, Dredd. We’ll dispatch a mop crew to your location.