My feet and legs, aching as if I had run a marathon, pounded the dry pavement as I gasped and wheezed in the dry air. I had already been sprinting for around 17 minutes and 42 seconds, and I was beginning, well more of constant consideration, to wonder why I was doing this. Why you may ask? Oh merely the fact that I was the sneaky sort, the type to not be remembered, the type that asks the questions, gets the information, and leaves- all without being caught. I'm not the type that runs, ok, sprints, down the middle of a sidewalk filled with tourists, trying to get away from the scary men in black that could kick my butt as fast as you can say supercalifragilisticexpialid ocious. Because there are no men that can kick my butt that fast. I am the type that runs after the scary men in black and kick's their butt's. And yet, here I am.

But I am getting ahead of myself here, I do apologize, I had forgotten that you are new to this game. In fact you know nothing about it. And that is why I shall go back and start at the beginning. Back to when my name was actually Ruthmary and I was a naive seventeen-year-old with my whole brilliant future ahead of me...