It had been three hours, maybe four, since Cate had done anything except sit on the bed in a shitty New Jersey motel. She stared in the warped mirror above the dilapidated desk opposite the bed.

It had been weeks since she had her sacred book of Siran to turn to for advice. Normally, Cate would have opened the book immediately and would have been given a story from which she would have applied the moral to her circumstances. But now, there was no book to reference.

Cate held her face in her hand, who was she even fighting? Cate pulled a slip of paper from her back pocket. SHADE.

Her most immediate reaction was to completely blank on who Shade was.
"That's bad news," Cate said to herself, "when your entire identity is completely forgettable."

No, a roster page from when she joined the company sprung to mind, Shade was an evil and darkness type of guy, but less robes and scepters and more ill fitting suits from the discount rack at Macy's- No, from Wal-Mart. Does the dollar store sell suits? "Seriously, get a tailor, no matter how much you wish it looks good, it never will." Cate muttered and tried to recall information about Mr. Scary-Pants.

His move set was interesting, but predictable. Too many striking attacks, no holds, it was a perfect opportunity for her, Mr. Scary Pants was going to get hopped up on Mountain Dew, like a child, and exhaust himself trying to throw a limp-wristed punch. She would dodge until Mr. Scary-Pants left himself open mid-strike and slip him into a cradle, one two three, Cate gets a victory.

Cate searched her memory, Mr. Scary-Pants had an accomplice. A girl? Why? Who in their right mind would... oh, eww. Cate pictured her face, then again maybe those two were meant for each other. Cate wondered if Mr. Scary-Pants dressed Hope himself, like a toddler playing with a Barbie doll, or if Hope had spontaneously manifested out of the dumpster behind Hot Topic in Jonesville, Indiana.

Cate reached for her book, to consult it ahead of her match only to remember it was gone. Stolen by a tourist in New York. Again, the sadness and despair within swallowed her whole. As she fell into the endless pit of depression, Cate had a last thought, "Eat shit, Mr. Scary-Pants, I'm going kick your ass."