It's the New Year in 2000AD's Mega-City One. What will our intrepid WWAC staff wear to prepare for the, er, festivities? Let's find out! Kelly: New Year's Eve, Mega-City One: SJS (Sexy Judicial Squad) Just because the future is grim doesn't mean we can't dress to kill. Sometimes literally. We know your secrets and we look
It’s the New Year in 2000AD’s Mega-City One. What will our intrepid WWAC staff wear to prepare for the, er, festivities? Let’s find out!
Kelly: New Year’s Eve, Mega-City One: SJS (Sexy Judicial Squad)
Just because the future is grim doesn’t mean we can’t dress to kill. Sometimes literally.
We know your secrets and we look fly as hell.
Lana: Judge Dredd New Year’s Eve Get-Up
Catie: Megacity One: New Year’s Eve Murder Ball
Gussy up in your finery and gear up for war–you’ve been invited to Megacity One’s Annual Murder Ball. No one ACTUALLY dies, lest the Judges get cranky, but see how close you can get in this blood-drenched drunken debauchery to celebrate another miserable year.
Kelly (again): New Year’s Eve, Mega-City One: Remain Indoors
If you’re making your way home late at night, watch out for the Hellcats. You’ll recognize them from their panther tattoos, the neon masks, and the drokk-the-world attitude. They’ve all done ten to twenty in the cubes for murdering their men (who, the Hellcats argued, had it coming) and no Judge is taking them back.
Colleen: Mega-City One Contraband Runner
A selection of products for the modern Mega-City One Contraband Runner, particularly those transporting illegal sugar and coffee substances. Guaranteed to keep the Judges at bay.
Al: Judge Dressed NYE
If you’ve dressed prepared, half your accessories are weapons. Ring in the new year with as much safety as you can muster.
Wendy: MegaCity New Year
Since when does the apocalypse mean that we have to stop having fun? Judges not included.
Kelly (last time!): New Year’s Eve, Mega-City One: I’ve Seen The Future, Baby, It Is Murder
Everyone in the Big Meg is looking for a way out, but only the very rich can make it this stylish.
It’s been going on since the Atomic Wars. Sort of like Russian Roulette, but with champagne and cognac – the real stuff, illegal as it is – and cyanide mixers.
Three people, every year. No one knows exactly how it got started: whether it was a suicide cult, a mix-up with someone’s bartender-bot, or just the fatal boredom of the idle and monied.
If it’s the first option, the Judges say, they might as well give up. It’s been over sixty years, and no sign of heaven yet.