Clara (Part 1)

Clara had always cared about people.  Not any specific people, just people in general.  She cared that they existed, that they lived and grew around her.  She wanted to see them happy.  It made her smile to make someone else smile.  Yet, she never got to close, not to anyone, not even her own family.  She loved humanity, but she herself didn't always feel entirely human.

As Clara grew older, she started to see that some people weren't that great.  Some wanted to hurt others.  She could understand wanting to keep one's distance, not wanting to fully connect in an emotional way, keeping things intellectual, or even just as a surface level of affection.  What she could not understand was actively wanting to do harm.  She hated it.  She hated seeing others get hurt.  And she knew, deep inside, that she couldn't really get hurt, not in the same way others could.  She didn't have deep connections.  She cared, but her care was broad, and never deep.  Her ties to others couldn't be manipulated because they didn't exist.  When Clara realized the power of this surface level concern, the power she had to help others without putting herself at any greater risk than she already was, that was when Clara started to become a hero.

She at least needed a mask because even if she wasn't worried about a bad guy or gal coming after someone she cared about deeply, she'd still prefer it if they didn't seek her out when she wasn't looking for trouble.  In the end, she went with more than the mask - she had a whole ninja style get-up, covering everything but her eyes, and even those she disguised with colored contacts.  No need to take any risks of being caught.  She knew what she was doing wasn't strictly legal, but she also knew it was right.  She couldn't risk someone who was trying to do "good" by turning her in as a vigilante putting others in harms way when she was off the street.

At first, it didn't even matter that much.  The things she did were small - stopping some vandalism, preventing a mugging - but gradually, word about her spread.  Now when she appeared, those trying to do harm either scoffed because they didn't believe the stories they had heard, or ran because they did believe.  Either way, the innocent ended up safe.


It was three years into her late-night career that a knock at her door threatened to ruin everything.  Clara opened the door to reveal a handsome though rather disheveled man of about her own age.  He had dark hair, green eyes, and a small notebook with a pen.  "Good afternoon, ma'am," he said, sounding a bit nervous, "I'm a reporter with the Globe," Clara recognized that as a conspiracy mag, "and I've been tracking the whereabouts of the Lady Ninja."  Clara inwardly groaned at the extremely uncreative and unintentionally sexist name people had given to her alter ego, but only long enough to quickly transition to panic that this man was questioning her about her alter ego.  "My research indicates that she may be operating out of an apartment somewhere on your block."

Clara raised an eyebrow at that, and breathed an internal and silent sigh of relief that he did not seem to actually suspect her of being the veiled hero.  Still, she couldn't help but ask, "And what makes you think that?"

"The pattern of where she's been sighted," he said.  Clara found that odd considering she made a point to go all over the city when she went out on her "missions."  Almost as if he read her mind, though clearly he didn't, the man continued, "When she first started appearing it was around this area and she's moved out from here since, but she still seems to be mostly centered around this general area."  Clara silently cursed herself, realizing she had been doing exactly what the man said, thinking spreading out would throw off suspicion, but not thinking about the fact that it would still form a nice little circle around where she lived.  How had the police, who supposedly wanted to bring her in for questioning, not picked up on that?

"Anyway," the man was continuing, "I was just wondering how long you've lived here?  Long enough to remember someone moving in maybe three years ago?"

Clara relaxed a little at that, glad she had lived in this apartment for another two years before she had started her escapades.  "I don't really know my neighbors that well," she honestly replied.  "I've lived here for five years.  Not really sure who moved in three years ago that's still here.  I can assure you, though, that I haven't noticed any 'lady ninjas' around."  Other than when I look in the mirror, she silently added to herself.

The man was silent for a moment and seemed suspicious for the first time since knocking on her door.  Or maybe it was just that he seemed more confident?  Having gotten over his initial nerves at looking at her.  "Okay," he mumbled, and looked down at his paper without taking any notes, then back up at her.  "Just one more question," he said.  "How tall are you?"

Uh-oh, Clara thought.  He hadn't seemed suspicious of her before.  Had she gone too far in claiming not to have ever seen the ninja he was looking for.  Well, maybe if she fudged her height down just a little it would help?  Though she never took the time to ask, she imagined people who saw her threatening them would imagine her as being taller than she really was.  "Six foot six or so," she answered.  Then she decided to try to make him uncomfortable, maybe put him on his guard and distract him a bit by adding, "But don't ask my weight."

She was glad to see him blush just a little and stammer out, "N-no, of course not."  He looked back down and flipped his little notebook shut.  "Well, thank you for your time," he said, and he turned and walked away.

As Clara shut the door behind him, she couldn't help but think he had been kinda cute, in a nutty conspiracy theorist kind of way at least.  It was about the most emotionally affectionate thing she allowed herself to think about anyone.