Note: One of the motifs I constantly find myself coming back to, as I work on the UNEXPECTED RESULTS series, is that of a chess game. A while back, I 'assigned' the characters to the roles of the various pieces, which has been useful for imagining the strategies and maneuvers that they take in my stories. And as is so often in my case, I wonder exactly who the players are.

This story explores one possibility. And for those who are 'chess-savvy', as it were... you can probably guess the stage of the game, and which pieces are which.

And as for who's playing which colours... well... I have my reasons.


MOVE COUNTERMOVE

He sits alone, lazily sprawled in a high-backed chair, a cigar dangling idly from his fingertips, a glass of wine at his elbow on the table. The smoke sinuously drifts upward as he studies the table in front of him, where a checkered board is placed, upon which rest several chess pieces. The game is well in progress, and he sits before the white pieces, his eyes thoughtful as he absently brings the cigar to his lips and draws the smoke into his lungs before exhaling the smoke through partially-clenched teeth.

His eyes move over the pieces, first over those that have already been removed from the board and lay discarded nearby, then over those still standing, patiently waiting for the next move of the game. At this stage, it is difficult to tell who is winning. Possibilities lie open for both sides... as well as traps for each side to fall into. Advantage can be had, but not without sacrifice. Losses can be turned to victory, and reversed just as swiftly.

Which, more than anything, is what fascinates him now as he contemplates the board.

He takes another drag on the cigar, then stirs himself to lean forward and rest his elbows on the edge of the table, slightly lowering his head to study four particular pieces. They hold his attention as almost nothing else does in the game.

On one side of the board, guarded by the Black King's knight, stands the Black King's rook, which stands opposed by his own King's bishop and the two Bishops' pawns. Those, he thinks idly, will probably be sacrificed. But to him, that hardly matters.

On the other side of the board, flanked by the Black Queen's Bishop, stands the Black Queen's pawn. As of yet... they march toward the white side unopposed.

Or so it appears.

For now... it is his move.

He lifts slender fingers and picks up his own King's knight, studying it by the light of the flames that dance in the fireplace, then he carefully places it in the path of the advancing pawn. Soon, he thinks with relish, soon...

Already, he is imagining the removal of these pieces from the game. And then he and his King will be poised to strike at the very heart of the Black King and Queen.

And his thin lips curve into a measured, calculating smile as he leans back in his chair once more.