"Freeze!" he shouted, his handgun steadily pointing towards the criminal. The figure in the night black jumpsuit never flinched, and still ran, leaping over four foot high walls as if they weren’t there, running faster than the officer had ever seen.

"I said freeze!" the officer shouted, still keeping aim on the thief. Still the figure seemed not to notice. Leveling a last time, the officer pulled the trigger. The first bullet missed by inches; it struck the wall beside the figure. As sparks flew from the bullet’s point of entry, the figure changed his objective slightly. The officer aimed again, and pulled the trigger.

The figure dropped onto his side, his leg to the ground brought up, the other leg straight. The bullet whizzed where his head had been an instant before. He slid across the ground, aiming for a small space underneath a pillar. The pillar was raised slightly, leaving a space of about a foot from the ground. Somehow, even with the backpack he had on, he slid through and into the tunnel that let water out. He slid down the smooth, metal pipe and slowly twisted around so he was on his belly.

He could hear angry shouts from above. They faded and were forgotten as the twilight shone through from the end of the pipe. Butterflies rose in his stomach; he forced them down and focused on the task ahead. Speed from his decent in the pipe thrust him out a half dozen feet. For a moment, the high, almost fifty foot drop caused him to freeze, but he shook it off and used the air to his advantage; he hit the water in a perfect dive, barely a splash from his streamlined entrance.

He let himself go down, then slowly arced up. Kicking gracefully, he broke the surface near the bank; he climbed out and trudged carefully in the dark night back to his home.

When he reached the spot, an average house, he snuck in, and, setting his backpack by the door, pulled his black ski mask from his face.

Long strands of midnight black hair fell, and sweat covered his face. He went up to his room and showered, then laid back on his bed and tried to sleep. But sleep would not come.

He remembered when he was just like the officer that had tried to shoot him. When he had worked for the Government. It wasn’t that he hated his job. At least, not until he saw the Government massacre a small village. It was then that he realized what horrible monsters the Police Force had become. No one cared about the deaths of a few thousand people. He remembered when he would have been shooting at someone like he was now, striking out against the government.

Funny, he thought, life’s little jokes.