Clara (Part 2)

That evening, Clara went out as usual.  She figured if this mystery reporter's suspicions really were aroused regarding her, she would only arouse them more if she decided to behave differently than normal.  So she stuffed her outfit into a small backpack, threw out some running clothes, and went off for a jog in the park.

She drove to a park fairly far from her apartment, as usual these days, a park in one of the "rougher" parts of town where, within a couple hours, drug dealers and "thugs" were likely to emerge.  She parked about a mile from the park, jogged there, and then walked around for a bit, scoping things out.  After about another 30 minutes of that, she went into restroom at the edge of the park that had been "out of order" for ages, but remained unlocked.  Changed into her outfit, hiding her other clothes and backpack above a lose ceiling tile, and then slipped out into the night as a much more dangerous person.

The night was successful.  Clara managed to break-up four drug sales and got out of there just in time when the police finally decided to show up and try their hand at what she was doing.  As she headed back to her apartment, she felt exhausted yet elated, and hopeful that maybe she was ready to move to the even more dangerous parts of town, where the leaders of the gangs hung out and not just their lackeys.

When she got back to her apartment, she immediately knew something was wrong.  Well, "immediately" as in as soon as she put her key in the lock and turned.  There was no familiar click of the deadbolt unlocking.  Her apartment was already unlocked.  She took a breath as she contemplated what to do.  Ultimately, she settled on going around the back side of her building and entering through her balcony instead to see if she could catch whoever was in there off guard.  With a sigh, she slung her backpack over her shoulders and went back outside.


They didn't call Clara "ninja" simply because of her outfit.  She was as silent as humanly possible as she hoisted herself up to her own balcony, unlocked the sliding glass door, and slid into the study at the end of the hallway.  She cautiously glided across the carpet, guided by the light that she knew she hadn't left on in the living room, and as she grew closer, she was able to peek around the corner to see, seated on her couch and staring towards the door she normally would have entered, that same reporter from earlier that day.

Clara rolled her eyes and then practically jumped into the living room.  "What the hell are you doing in my apartment?" she demanded.

The reporter let out a little shriek that sounded like "Eeek!" and really did jump.  He leaped up from the couch, but then seemed to stumble over his own two feet and plopped back down.  His eyes grew wide.  "I - I know who you are!" he blurted out.

"And I have no idea who you are," Clara countered.  She held up her cell phone which she had collected from her bedroom (she never took it out with her on "missions").  "I'm calling the police," she told him.

"No, no wait!" he insisted, waving his hands wildly.  "Before you do..." he grinned mischeviously, "what's in your backpack?"

Clara's pulse quickened just for a second or two, but then she simply rolled her eyes.  "Clothes," she said, "and I have no obligation to show them to you because you BROKE INTO MY HOME."

"Okay, okay," he consented, countenance falling and holding up his arms still in a submissive gesture.  "Do what you have to do just know..." he grinned again "I know who you are."

"Fine," she said, and she held out her phone so that he could see her dialing 911.  He stuck around just long enough to hear her say, "Yes, there's a crazy reporter who broke into my apartment and is now harassing me."  Then she watched as he did his best to calmly exit through her front door while also trembling in nervousness.  As she watched him go, she contemplated that she could have held him there, made him stay, forced the police to deal with him.  But then again, calling 911 was more or less just a show to get him to leave.  If this pesky reporter needed to be dealt with, Clara was more than capable of dealing with it in her own way.


The next morning she decided that "dealing with it in her own way" might as well mean getting a new apartment.  Her lease was up in another month and she hadn't renewed yet.  After living there 5 years, now was as good a time as any to move on.  Maybe she should move closer to the dangerous parts of the city she most wanted to protect and clean up.  But then again, maybe she should do just the opposite so as not to raise any additional suspicion.  She sighed as she browsed the web looking for apartments with vacancies.  She felt like this was the most any person outside her immediate family had influenced her decision making.  She already knew that she didn't really like it.