The Martian sand looked even redder than usual in the slanting light. The setting sun outlined the black shapes of the two men in front of me, throwing long shadows behind them onto the sand. One man was leaning against the side of a warehouse, smoking an illegal cigarette, while the other paced up and down between that warehouse and the next, keeping watch. Both of them were looking outward, toward the sun, waiting for the next shipment to be delivered. Both of them were looking the wrong way.

I crept closer. I was almost certain both men were carrying photon guns, which were supposed to be illegal. I smiled. My right hand hovered over my service weapon, but my thoughts went to the photon gun hidden on my left hip. It was easy enough to get your hands on one if you were prepared to spend enough credits. I still hadn't decided which I would use for today's job.

I froze as the man with the cigarette ground it out beneath his heel and took a quick glance back over his shoulder, but there was no need, he didn't look upward to the roof. I was constantly surprised by how seldom people looked up for threats, you'd think they would have learned by now.

I lowered myself down onto my stomach and wriggled carefully along the roof until I had a clear shot. Got the first man in my sights. Waited.

A third man came into view and approached cautiously. A minute later he and the smoker had their heads together. I saw a small package exchange hands. I had a split second to decide whether to stick with the weapon I had chosen or change my mind.

But really, I had already decided before I came out today. It was time for me to stop being one of the good guys. I grinned in nervous excitement and fired the photon gun, configured to its maximum setting. Watched with a mixture of horror and fascination as the beam cut both men literally in half. Almost before the remaining dealer could react, I swung the gun a fraction to the right and fired again. Crimson blood stained the rusty red of the Martian sand. There was no need to go down and check for survivors.

I scanned the area quickly for witnesses, but saw no-one. Still, I knew it wouldn't be long before the cops arrived—time to clear out.

I scrabbled backwards over the roof, dropping lightly to my feet on the other side of the warehouse—the side away from the crime scene. I felt high on adrenaline as I raced between the silent buildings, running until I was well clear of the quiet industrial centre and into a more populated part of the city. Once I reached the streets, I slowed to a walk, blending in with the hundreds of ordinary people going about their business in the Martian capital, under the dome.

My heart was still pumping furiously and there was a queasy feeling in my stomach. Today I had crossed a line. The line between good guys and bad, heroes and villains. Although the men I'd shot were committing a crime, I was supposed to arrest them, not murder them in cold blood. But I had wanted to see what it felt like, not just to kill—I'd done that before as part of my job—but to experience what it felt like to do the wrong thing. Not by accident, but on purpose, deliberately.

To cross over to the other side.

So what did it feel like, you ask?

Sure I was nervous, guilty even, but—to be honest—it felt... powerful.

~~~

The next morning, I arrived at work early, eager to hear what had been discovered so far about the murders.

"Hey, Lawrence, have you heard what happened last night?" Zach, one of my teammates hailed me as soon as I got in the door. He was a small man, with a sharp face, always trying to be a step ahead of everyone else and not always too fussy how he got there. Not one of my favourites.

"No, what?" I replied, heading purposefully to my desk.

"Three deaders—right in front of Phobos' warehouse." Zach licked his lips, his eyes bright with a rather unwholesome pleasure. "Sliced right in half, like pieces of meat. Must have been a photon gun. You should have seen the blood—"

"What was really weird though," Jonsen interrupted, "was that the Crystal was still on one of the bodies. If it was a rival gang, why leave the product?" Jonsen was the oldest of us. Not only had he been here the longest, but he was the most level headed. He always took time to study a situation first, before rushing in to save the day. He didn't always get as much action but he had scored more "kills" than anyone else. He was the man I would have chosen to be my partner—if any of us had one.

Mik, the youngest man present, frowned. "Yeah, that doesn't make sense. Why kill them all and not take the Crystal? It wasn't as if any of them were in a position to protest—they were all killed instantly, within seconds of each other."

How could I have been so stupid? I looked down at my desk, suddenly fearful of meeting anyone's eyes. Why hadn't I thought of that? I could have easily dropped down and taken the package. But I hadn't been thinking about the package. I had being thinking about murder, not theft or drugs.

The others continued to talk about the crime off and on throughout the day. I could only hope none of them noticed how little I contributed to the discussion.

~~~

It was another week before I became restless again. Gradually, I realised the day to day crime fighting work which I had enjoyed for so long, had become boring and it no longer satisfied me. I don't know whether it was just me or not, but the criminals we were hunting these days seemed too easy, like they weren't really trying. Mik and I rounded up four perpetrators between us on the same day, three thieves caught in the act and a man who had assaulted his wife but then come in and confessed an hour later. All pretty tame stuff.

There was one case which might have been more interesting, a (failed) assassination attempt on the mayor, but Zach beat me to that one. He'd come in early and picked the assignment right off my desk. I could have complained, but what was the point? He'd already brought in the would-be assassin, bruised and handcuffed. I tuned out Zach's smug boasting and searched for my next assignment, flicking through the list scrolling down my desk, with one fingertip. Nothing really grabbed my attention and my mind wandered. No-one had discovered my role in the slayings and I found the excitement from the kill had worn off. I needed something new.

When the thought first entered my mind, I was horrified. Truly. I pushed it away as fast as I could, refusing to dwell on it for more than a second. The idea was too shocking to contemplate.

But it came back, slipping into my thoughts like a worm into an apple. Eating away at my resolve despite my best efforts to deny it. I couldn't do something like that, said my conscience, fighting a rearguard action. I wouldn't just be crossing a line, I would be putting myself on the other side of the fence. But then I'd find myself contemplating ways that I could do it.

~~~

The next week, I followed Zach. At first for the whole day, checking his movements, getting a feel for his routine, but once I found he had a pattern—breakfast at Joe's (coffee and eggs)—an evening drink or two at the Red Sun—I cut back my surveillance, just checking that he maintained these two fixtures in his solitary life.

There was no hurry—anticipation was half the fun.

Carefully, I prepared the groundwork. Once I knew his routine, I started looking for a suitable location. For a start, it had to be believable—somewhere he would expect to go to catch a perpetrator. Somewhere isolated and not likely to be over-looked by a neighbour or worker passing by.

Eventually, I decided on the Phobos warehouse—the very same place I had conducted my first murder. I hesitated for a while—wondering if I was choosing it just because it was familiar, but it met all the criteria. It was isolated, with a good vantage point, and best of all, I could lure Zach there with a tip that he could find the perpetrator who had murdered those three men. Which was perfectly true! I chuckled to myself—it just wouldn't be who he was expecting.

I purchased a message-bot from an outlet on the other side of the city where I never went normally. I wasn't foolish enough to make the mistake of buying one through the cyber network. Everyone one who worked in law-enforcement knew there was always a way to track cyber activity. Sometimes the primitive ways were the best ways.

I waited across the street from the Red Sun as the message-bot delivered the tipoff to Zach. I knew exactly what it would say.

"If you want to eyedee the perp who slices - Phobos' warehouse 22 hundred tonight. There's another deal on." Then it would self destruct into microscopic pieces.

I wasn't an expert in street slang but it was enough to get the message across. Nor had I bothered to add anything like "come alone" as I was certain Zach would want to claim the credit for the op all by himself. In any case, an instruction like that would have sounded a warning alert loud enough to make even Zach take notice.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Zach left the Red Sun, scanned the area briefly with narrowed eyes, and then headed in the direction of the warehouses. As silent as smoke, I drifted behind, just long enough to be certain of his direction. Then I slipped ahead, eager to take up my vantage point on the roof before he got there. This time I had the photon gun on my right hip, already configured to the maximum setting.

Once I entered the warehouse area, I left even the last few people behind. No-one had a legitimate reason for being there at this time of night.

Eventually, I reached Phobos' warehouse and checked briefly to confirm that I was the first to arrive. Effortlessly, I climbed up onto the roof, buoyed by a rush of excitement as much as the low gravity.

I took out my gun and waited, braced on my stomach and facing the opposite way to the time I had caught the drug dealers unaware. I knew Zach would approach from the east side.

Sure enough, soon Zach appeared, cautiously making his way down the side of the passageway between the two warehouses. It was an hour before the appointed time and I guessed he would be searching for a suitable vantage point for himself. I smiled as I wondered whether he would think of the roof.

I sighted along the photon gun, aiming for his body, not his head. I wanted the crime to look just like the others. Maybe I could build a reputation for myself, make headlines in the newsvid with a fancy alias. I rather liked the name I had given in my message to Zach—"The Slicer."

Then Zach disappeared from sight behind the warehouse. Hastily, I pulled in my imagination and concentrated on the task at hand.

The next second his head appeared, only a few metres from where I was lying. He had chosen the roof for his vantage point—just as I had.

Wait... wait... I gripped the gun, my fingers suddenly sweating with nervous excitement. Zach appeared above the skyline, holding his service weapon in his right hand, a compact stunner that could fell a man at twenty paces. Usually that was enough in the close quarters under the dome. Land was at a premium and there were few spaces wider than a couple of metres. Even the streets were narrow.

I saw Zach's eyes widen in surprise as he recognised me. Surprise turned to quick anger as he leapt to the conclusion that I had beaten him to the op. "What the hell are you doing here, Lawrence?"

He had no idea. I watched his eyes widen even further as he saw the photon gun in my hand, saw his Adam's apple bob convulsively. I smiled as I fired, cutting him in half from left to right, before he could cry out. Both halves disappeared instantly from sight. I scrabbled forward to look over the edge of the roof and—saw Mik staring up at me in shock, Zach's bleeding torso on the ground in front of him.

Shit! Zach had brought backup, he hadn't been as arrogant as I'd thought.

I liked Mik, I really did—but I had no choice. I didn't even realise I had made a decision until I saw the red line searing across his body, from left to right. Shit! Shit! I was shaking. How had it all gone so wrong?

I slithered back to the other side of the warehouse roof and dropped to the ground. I felt like I wanted to throw up but I'd have to wait until I got home for that. I had to get out of here. Now.

I swallowed down the nausea and raced away as fast as I could. When I got home I retched until my stomach ached. Killing Zach hadn't bothered me, he deserved it for being such an arsehole, but Mik... I'd liked Mik. I hadn't intended to kill a friend.

I showered for the whole two minutes allowed, but the fine spray did nothing to wash away the guilt. I was still shaking when I climbed into bed. Pull yourself together, I kept repeating. In my current state, I didn't think I'd be able to face Jonsen tomorrow. I needed to act normally and go in to work but if I couldn't hold it together I'd have to take a sick day. I couldn't sleep, going over the events again and again in my head. It wasn't until a couple of hours had passed, that I began to worry if I had left any evidence behind in my panicked flight.

They came for me the next day.

At first I tried to bluff my way out, loudly protesting confusion at the early morning call. Jonsen's face was an expressionless mask as the two men with him read me my rights and cuffed my hands, but his eyes were as cold as the frozen ground outside the dome. Then Jonsen grimly held up Mik's tri-recorder in one hand and I fell silent.

~~~

I lay on the hard bed in my cell, looking sightlessly at the ceiling. The arrest had been more distressing than I'd expected. Jonsen looked through me as if I wasn't there and it seemed the others took a grim satisfaction in locking me in the smallest, darkest cell.

I sighed. I had a few credits left in my account but it wouldn't be a great loss if I had to sacrifice them. Despite the last couple of days, I had enjoyed my adventures on Mars—experienced action and thrills this time that I had never dared before. But perhaps now was the time to go home. I certainly didn't want to stay here any longer than I had to. The trial could only be a painful, even humiliating experience, and I had absolutely no desire to spend any time in prison.

It was time to pull the plug. Literally. I reached behind my neck and fingered the portal embedded there. Pinching with my fingernails, I forced out a needle which had been buried under my skin next to the portal. I winced briefly at the moment's pain, then pushed the end of the needle into a tiny socket in the portal.

A menu of options scrolled across my vision. At least, it should have been a menu of options but all it said was "On" and "Off" in large white letters. Damn! How annoying—what a time for the device to malfunction. I'd have to get it serviced when I got home.

I chose the "Off" option and closed my eyes.

"Simulation Terminated. Real life starts now." The familiar words appeared behind my eyelids. I waited patiently for the portal to finish its processing and wondered idly whether I would have any problems adjusting this time. I lay there in a half doze, letting my mind drift.

"Crime Fighter" had been the best simulation I'd tried yet. It had been hideously expensive but everything had seemed so real, from the setting, to the actions of the other players—the visuals as vivid as reality. Even the modified gravity. And the emotions. By the end of the game I had been fully engaged, experiencing everything just as if it had been real life. Trepidation. Guilt. Grief. Excitement. The orgasmic rush of power.

I suspected it was going to be harder this time to acclimatise to ordinary life. Working nine to five in admin. I started to calculate how long it would take me to earn enough to pay for another game.

I must have drifted off because I woke with a start. I looked around, blinking, trying to reorient.

I sat up and stared in disbelief at the walls of the small cell, the hard bed. I hadn't gone anywhere. Desperately, I fumbled for the needle and pressed it into the socket in my neck portal, again and again.

"Simulation Terminated. Real life starts now."

But it hadn't. I was still inside Crime Fighter.