Chapter 1: The Beginning

Introduction

A cloud sped across the moon, blocking out all visible light. The cloud lighted blue and decided to hang around, leaving the night a barren wasteland. Once again, the quiet night was shrouded in darkness. Dark and peaceful. Nothing was happening down on this quiet town of Alken, New Jersey. Everyone was asleep at 2:30; even the rowdiest teens had quieted.

People were in their houses, totally unaware that the night was not as quiet as they thought.

For as a small dark-haired female broke into the nearest bank, she was so skilled, the all-new high-tech search camera system installed in the building not at all caught her presence. In fact, the cameras were new because of her and her phantom-like ability. Yes, this girl was so skilled, not even the motion detectors caught her.

For no one had ever caught Kara Azhura. And no one ever would. Everyone tried – no one enjoyed having his or her valuables stolen, after all. They'd set the little red beam security features, they'd sent manpits, they'd set alarms that rang whenever you first set foot on the floor – but Kara was simply untouchable. Some even went so far as to call her Catwoman, the legendary thief of the fictional Gotham City. For that's what she was. A highly unusual person. No thief had ever evaded officials for as long as 6 years. Because 6 years ago was her last mistake. She had made none since, or at least none that anyone noticed. There was now a 40,000 dollar reward for her arrest.

But no one had ever even seen her. How could they catch her?

Kara sped slowly and silently to the internal safes, picking the locks as if she'd been born doing it. In very little time the locks were creaky and dead. She swung open the doors, and the cold hard contents spilled out at Kara's feet.

Kara allowed herself a tiny smile. She'd done it again.

Once again, she had money for that special purpose.

The only thing in the world that mattered.

In the morning of this same city…

I angrily click the remote again and again. Is there ever anything good on Mondays?

I'm stretched out on my crappy sofa. It's crappy just because there are holes everywhere and the stuffing has no place to go but out.

Just like my life. Slowly deteriorating because people keep touching and squashing it.

Great. I have something in common with my couch. I'm going soft.

Groaning, I get off of my crappy sofa and click the remote standing up. No use being uncomfortable while I'm getting my daily TV intake.

Annoyed, I finally flip to channel 10, where the morning Dateline is playing. Now here I am…and about time, too. I thought they'd never mention me.

I watch the reporter, an insane smile flickering across my face. It's Stone Phillips, with his comically serious voice.

"It seems that we have had yet another break-in from the mysterious Catwoman." He begins with his usual morning drone. "Officials have been looking into the issue and have discovered that this person has nabbed about $30,000 from the main vault. Here is Stan Poller."

The camera switches to a droopy looking guy. He mutters, just loud enough for the camera to hear, "We're in luck. He or she left us $30 in change on the bottom of the vault."

I snicker. Yeah, they are lucky. The camera switches back to Phillips.

"Wow. Thirty to thirty thousand dollars. The man has got some nerve. And now, we turn to the Federation of Agriculture…"

"That's it?" I whisper to myself, blowing a stray strand of brown hair that isn't wrapped up in my makeshift ponytail. "Just that I've got some nerve?" I switch the channel. Who cares about the Department of Agriculture? I want to hear about me!

My god, I'm sane enough to at least get a little attention, right?

Well, maybe I'm not sane. Sanity is all in the eyes of the beholder. But even if I am sane, I'm pretty sure that I'm at least a kleptomaniac. I've been stealing since I was 8, and 7 years of stealing after that is probably going to leave a mark on your psyche.

But you might be wondering why I even have to steal.

Well, that goes back a long time.

I never grew up rich – none of my family ever did. You could say that's why I am so totally screwed in terms of family and social life. So now, I have to use my ability if I want to get by. My dad could care less about income – he doesn't even ask why thousands turn up on a nightly basis.

At 15, I'm not old enough to work, and I wouldn't even if I could. Stealing gives me a much better rush than mowing lawns, which I actually tried once. I can't work. It's just how I am. I'm lazy, and I already tried the straight route. It's not for me. When I see something I like, I just take it. I guess that really does make me a klepto. Nothing I can do.

I switch off the TV, and walk over to the window. I stare outside at the one lonely hedge in my front yard. If you can call it a front yard, anyway. It's basically just a 5-yard by 5-yard stretch of grass. Even if I wanted another hedge, it wouldn't fit. My current hedge covers the whole lot of it. It's a cute little rhododendron and sadly, it's also my only friend. I don't go to school, and so I never meet anyone my age. The only people on my block are some drunken old men and teen guys that will harass you and even go further – I've seen it done before. So, basically I don't go out except for nights when I steal my necessary money.

Back to my one true friend, the bush, there is a little hollow in the middle of it, and I usually sit there when my dad comes home. It's not a big deal, because I don't think he realizes it when I'm gone. When I was around 1, or so he says, and he left my mom, he started to drink to ease the pain of her leaving. (My dad was never a very rational person even before the alcohol.) Eventually, he got hooked, just like every other moron who drinks alcohol regularly, and pretty much extinguished his personality. Now whenever he talks, it's just the beer talking. I can't trust him with anything.

And sometimes the beer talks physically. He can get pretty violent sometimes, like when he just gets back, so I guess I have to avoid it and play it safe as much as possible. When that happens, I come right out to my rhododendron and stay there. But at least I don't have to live in this bush. My dad is MIA so often anyway, I get a lot of free time. Like now, for instance. My dad has been out for three days now, but I can't say I'm worried. Once he stayed out for a full week, and he still didn't notice me when he finally got back to our tiny shack.

I know, I know, my home life sucks. But it really isn't so bad. I wouldn't be able to get out at all if he wasn't gone all the time, so it really is a big bonus for both of us. He gets happy slowly killing his liver, and I get happy stealing. We do what we do. As I said, no big deal; it never amounts to one. He ignores me, I ignore him. It's just our relationship.

And I don't know what made me go this way. It's just something I do. Mother Teresa was born to help those abandoned to die in the slums of Calcutta. I was born to take what is not mine through any means possible.

We all have purposes. Mine is truly evading the law – and my father.

Author's Note: Well, here is finally somthing new, so review! Do you like the anger part of this so far?

And let me describe Kara a little bit. She is much different from Katrina, even if they have similar names. Katrina generally has a positive outlook on life, and Kara thinks the world has discarded her into the trash heap. I know I started Kara out a little one-sidedly, but she'll show different sides later. I hope I don't make her into this is huge annoying kickass rude punk, and you can let me know if she seems that way. Flames are accepted, just include what you liked along with it.

And please let me know, do you like WHTML or this one better (so far, anyway)? I need to know these things so I know how to change things! Okay then, this concludes my blah blah. Just review and review!