Call me D.

I came from work with 7 souls, Jesus, and some snacks in a bag.

Arrived, courtesy of Muni, half an hour late. They were out of waivers, but I had waited too long for this night to give up so easily.

Luckily, in my pocket I had one of the scarves of the Dali Llama (it pays to keep an eye on the competition.) I tied it around my arm, figuring the bright red should cause confusion. I would pursue runner and chaser alike across the city, acquiring souls from people willing to trade anything for survival or a better pair of legs. The scarf was definitely too long- but you could hardly notice the scorch marks (occupational hazard).

We scattered off the starting squiggle. I felt the ancient joy of adrenaline rise in my borrowed glands as I enjoyed the discord. And then there was only the running.

Within a block I spotted a yellow arm band on the sidewalk, I picked it up and tied it around my other arm without stopping, holding Jesus in my teeth to free up my hands. I did not know what I was. I never got a map until after the event was over, didn't know the rules.

I just ran until I was among only yellows. I asked "So am I runner or a Chaser?"

She answered: "Orange! Run!"

"Ah." I said, and passed her.

It would be fun to be pursued for once. I smirked at the thought that anyone who cought me would be in for a few surprises, not the least of which would be Jesus full in the face.

I was carrying a pad of 'alternatives'. Convenient escape clauses for people that decided they wanted to keep their souls. They are quite effective, no one has successfully escaped yet. It was easy enough to convince the mortal at each checkpoint to sign it.

The evening was a whirlwind of images.

I was tagged twice, both times while in the protection of the Golden Lady. I suspect her of having her own kind of magic. We never encountered a red light in her presence. Regrettably she wouldn't give up her soul for anything. As she pointed out she already had eternal beauty.

A man in a black cap made the tactical decisions for us. Each checkpoint we would pick up new members, usually having lost all the old ones. but we survived. But then we were the one devising the tactics; there was never any guarantee that they were meant to make others survive...

A bald man (yes I know I keep describing heads, but I always look there first in case there are horns) dispensed strange strategies. One where we made a solid wall of car doors and ran through. The rest of the group discussed what kind of music would go best with our jingling bells.

Hunter S. Thompson gave me a free pair of sunglasses.

A cat terrorized us and made me jumpy at the sight of anyone in white face for the rest of the evening.

A sight of fallen comrades. With orange arm bands. "Hey! Oh....."

Increasing paranoia. Swinging Jesus in front of me around any corners, to take out anyone who might be hiding. Someone said: "Good thing that wasn't a nun."
"Actually that happened once."
He was tagged two blocks later. No mercy towards nuns, that's my motto.
I held my arm up in front of me demanding they showed theirs. They weren't playing.

In the end it came down to D, a man in black cap, a man covered in arrows, Davy Crockett, and a chap with a beard. We were heading towards the final checkpoint and I knew that my survival hinged on theirs. I needed as much cannon fodder as possible. I told the story of how my life was saved by rocks to motivate them. Then the man covered in arrows said that there were two things we could do. We could go UP or we could go DOWN. And he knew we would make the RIGHT decision. We were pumped, walking in the middle of the street. I had my second wind and was swinging Jesus around my head, ready to throw him at any orange band that dared to show their arm.

And then we walked into the party, never having seen a single chaser between 6 and 7. It would have been such an anticlimax had I not collected one of the three creators of the games' soul on my way out.

All in all a productive night.

One soul for eternal health, beauty, and youth.
One soul for the ability to really shred on an electric guitar.
One soul for enough riches to live comfortably for a lifetime.
One soul for the ability to make everyone happy.
One soul for the ability to be a great writer.
One soul for a candy bar with bacon in it.
One soul for eternal health, wealth, and success.
One soul for a better pair of lungs.
One soul for eternal wealth.
One soul for fair housing.
One soul for more time.
One soul for wealth.
One soul for knowledge.

One D, leaving behind a body that had never known such exhaustion.