Act 1
(In a small fishing lodge the lights are warmly lit to a soft orange which paint over the browns of the rustic panels of the walls and the ceiling's support beams. There lay 3 tables with chessboards upon each of them in the middle of the floor, and dining tables in the background which lean up against the wall with windows right above them. From said windows it's apparent that not only is night time, but that it's been snowing pretty hard lately as well. Cheap décor infests most of the lodge along with a coat rack besides a door on the far left end. On the opposite end, a counter with assorted wines and a rack of keys nailed up on the wall behind it make up the space where the clerk lays asleep, snoring. Back to the chessboards, on the rightmost table, 2 siblings sit across each other whilst in the middle of a game. Red haired, and odd attitudes, the brother and sister are mostly engaged to their own little game, giving little attention to their surroundings, including the man who sits alone in the middle table. With slicked back hair and a dark 5 o'clock shadow, he sits there in a mellow manner with a cup of coffee and a briefcase by his side.)
Booker: Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt. (He mutters to self)
(Meanwhile…)
Robert: What a peculiar move you made there.
Rosalind: Very peculiar, indeed.
Robert: Might I add that this doesn't necessarily mean you've won.
Rosalind: Of course, dear. Might I add that this doesn't necessarily mean I won't win… soon enough.
Robert: Win, won, will win.
Rosalind: Lose, lost, will lose.
Robert: Funny, how we still play though.
Rosalind: Come now, the game must end one way or another.
Robert: And whose to say it hasn't already?
Rosalind: One only needs to read the rules to find that one out.
Robert: Yes, and by such rules, you obviously have the upper hand.
Rosalind: But the probability still lies in your favor.
Robert: In my favor?
Rosalind: In your favor.
Robert: With only a knight, bishop, 2 pawns, and the good ol' crown left?
Rosalind: Only those. (She takes a sip of coffee that she has beside her, leaning away from the board a bit) From where I see it, there's no reason for me to believe you will indefinitely lose.
Robert: Those odds are quite comforting to acknowledge (Obviously sarcastic). From where I see it, there's every reason for me to believe you will indefinitely win.
Rosalind: We are looking at the same board, correct?
Robert: Are we?
Rosalind: We are.
Robert: Suppose we reverse this- (He leans his head down, eye level to the pieces, before spinning the board around so that he is now playing Rosalind's colors.) Well, things haven't changed much, have they?
Rosalind: Not one bit.
Robert: So, please elaborate.
Rosalind: On what matter?
Robert: My odds.
Rosalind: Your odds?
Robert: Your odds. How are they on that side?
Rosalind: Well considering all your… my pieces I have left-
Robert: And their respective placement-
Rosalind: I think it's safe for one to assume-
Robert: In all probability-
Rosalind: You still have a select number of ways to check me.
Robert: I do? I cannot see.
Rosalind: You cannot /foresee/.
Robert: I cannot see at present, thus, my…your odds are thin as air. Our strategies dictate such an outcome of events.
Rosalind: (Flipping the board back to it's original state) Strategy may be confined and molded to the rules-
Robert: But skill itself is a probability like anything else-
Rosalind: So change your strategy, and reevaluate-
Robert: For every move is my last-
Rosalind: Until it isn't-
Robert: And so we still play.
(The duo fall silent and Booker turns his head to look at them for a second before returning to the comforts of his coffee in a confused manner. Time passes and he begins to tap his fingers on the table out of boredom. The siblings on the other hand, finish their game and with a sigh, Robert pulls out a coin and flips it to Rosalind. She catches it midair, and pulling out a bulging coin purse, tosses it in.)
Rosalind: Rematch?
(Suddenly, the door on the left end of the lodge flies open and a compounding gust of powerful winds come through, carrying clusters of little snowflakes to sprinkle the floor before it. Booker looks up frantically and stares at the open door with an initial face of worry that soon fades to one of recognition. The siblings seem to have not noticed a thing, but the clerk didn't seem as nonchalant about the entrance seeing as he is startled from his sleep. He sits up and stares at the foreboding silhouette which made up a lot of the open door frame, waiting for the figure to come in.)
Clerk: Come on! You're letting the cold air in! (He says in a rather brash tone)
(Pausing a while longer, the mysterious person walks through the door before closing it. Booker and the Clerk hold their stares at the stranger whose thick garments were stripped away to slowly reveal a more petite constitution. And a more familiar one at that too, for Booker. After removing most her large coats and setting them on a nearby hanger, the woman turns around to meet Booker's eyes.)
Booker: Elizabeth. (He utters in a greeting tone.)
(She nods back before walking up to the Clerk in a dignified manner)
Elizabeth: I'll take a coffee. (Is all she says in a soft, yet piercing voice with a clear trace of Russian roots)
Clerk: Yes ma'am. Would you like a room as well?
Elizabeth: I'll take… a coffee. (She says a little more sternly)
Clerk: Uhhh… coming right up. (And with a slightly confused and aback expression, he got up and walked through a door behind the desk)
Elizabeth: (Coming to sit down across from Booker, plus glancing at the twins who continue their game) I apologize for my informality. I was simply caught up in-
Booker: It's fine. (He snaps before regaining his composure, still maintaining a bit of a bite) You did bring the code, right?
Elizabeth: Did you bring the case? (She responds in an air less polite than she had formerly held)
Booker: (Lifting up the case) Well?
Elizabeth: (She nods before taking her seat) I do, in fact, have the code. But it's been advised that I not tell you it until we decide the arrangements.
Booker: (Sighing) Well, the plan's been to go to New York and-
Elizabeth: New York? New York was definitely not an option before nor is it now.
Booker: (A bit irritated at being cut off himself) Well then, where would you decide to go after this is all said and done?
Elizabeth: (With hardly a moment's pause) Paris.
Booker: Paris?
Elizabeth: Paris.
Booker: Well that was unexpected. You do know Operation… (He paused before looking over his shoulders and then bending forward with a lowered voice) You do know Operation Songbird will involve many European countries. Things could get pretty tangled up over there.
Elizabeth: Yes, but that's where I want to go, and that's where I shall go.
Booker: Stubborn... We're going to New York. It's where you'll be safe, it's where I'll get paid, and it's where-
Elizabeth: I'll be caged. Mr. Dewitt, if we can't come to some sort of agreement anytime soon, I'm sure this trip to the lighthouse will all be in vain.
(Booker lolls his head in drawn out lengths, pondering on how to convince her to follow his lead. She, on the other hand, looked down at the table before producing a visible smirk)
Elizabeth: How about we settle this with a simple game of chess? It's only right that we with two ideas settle our differences with a fair, little game.
Booker: (Groaning a bit) Yeah, this isn't a game though.
Elizabeth: Why of course it is. The stakes might be real, but what other way are we going to settle this?
Booker: Well, I could come up with a few easier ones. (He pauses) My employers don't want you upset, though…
Elizabeth: Then don't make me upset.
Booker: I guess I don't really have a choice, do I?
Elizabeth: There's always a choice. It's up to you.
Booker: (After staring at the window in a contemplative manner) Whose move first?
Elizabeth: Seeing as I came past the designated time, you can start it off.
(They pull out their respective pieces from drawers beside the table and place them down)
Booker: The fate of the world in the hand of a king(He says mockingly as he set down the king piece)
Elizabeth: But you're the one using his hand to move the king and his army.
Booker: Right…
(Time passes…)
Elizabeth: Not your most profound move.
Booker: I was reading your move, though.(He has tint of frustration about his personality)
Elizabeth: A move. Not the move I was going to make.
Booker: Obviously.
Elizabeth: (Capturing his 2nd knight) Like magic. (She takes a sip of her now present coffee) Grab your attention here… make my move there. (She has a confident expression)
Booker: Heh, give someone a little power. They fall in all kinds of love with themselves.
Elizabeth: (Taken aback) I only got the advantage due to your mistakes. It was fair from the beginning.
Booker: The game is. (He says before rolling his neck around once more)
Elizabeth: Oh come on, I don't have much experience in this game either.
Booker: Well that's nice to know. Now I can tell my boss I lost you gambling.
Elizabeth: (Giggling a bit) Don't go that low.
Booker: We're just kind of winging it here, aren't we?
Elizabeth: That and we're also learning from each other. We've got two different play styles. Two different reasons to win-
Booker: More like one reason. Just two different directions to follow.
Elizabeth: (Shuffling a bit) -Yes. (Back to her original statement) And only one board. One set of rules. Constants and variables.
Booker: Hmm?
Elizabeth: Constants and variables. (She says in a more matter-of-fact pitch)
Booker: Uh huh.(He says, thinking of her oddly) Speaking of numbers- (He resumes his normal posture) the code- what do you think about it? About the whole thing?(He looks over his shoulders once more to reassure that the only two other people in the place, minus the clerk who fell back to sleep, were minding their own business)
Elizabeth: You sure that's a question you're allowed to ask?
Booker: I don't know. Is it?
Elizabeth: Well…
Robert: (Speaking loudly) Well that is most peculiar. Rematch?
Rosalind: Gladly.
(Booker and Elizabeth exchange glances before getting back to their game, straying away from the previous subject)
Booker: Since when did you have that? (He points towards Elizabeth's hand after they had a short bout of silence)
Elizabeth: Ever since I could remember. Did you just now realize it?
Booker: No. I just never bothered to ask.
Elizabeth: Oh. Very well. I'm not sure exactly how it happened, I just remember it… being there.
Booker: Well, that's quite a… scar to just not know about. Did your parents know how you got it?
Elizabeth: (Staring at him with a deadpan look) You weren't briefed on that, were you?
Booker: On what?
Elizabeth: Never mind(She darted her head down to the board)
Booker: Check.
Elizabeth: (With her head still lowered, her averted mask began to mold into one of anxiety right before Booker's eyes) Damn. (She moves her king out of check)
Booker: I hope you don't mind being cornered. (He smirks)
Elizabeth: It's nothing I can't get myself out of.
Booker: Says the woman whose 1 little pawn is the only thing in the way between my rook and your king.
Elizabeth: (Giving a worried smile) Hey, even the little guys can do their fair share.
Booker: Or just buy you time.
Elizabeth: Enough time to get back the advantage.
Booker: And… get me distracted…
Elizabeth: (Now with a smug smile) Well there goes your rook.
Booker: Yeah. There it goes (He's getting pretty dull) Another prick on the side turning out to be a big puncture.
Elizabeth: Don't be such a sore loser, Mr. Dewitt. I'm sure you'll love Paris. It might even help with that attitude of yours.
Booker: Let's just hurry up and finish.
Elizabeth: So you've accepted defeat?
Booker: (He sits there thinking before looking back over his shoulder at the couple) No. There's still the possibility.
Elizabeth: (Snickering) Okay then. Let's see what you have!
(Time passes…)
Elizabeth: You surely came back around, Mr. Dewitt.
Booker: What'd I tell you?
Elizabeth: Well, I didn't expect it to end up looking like this.
Booker: It might take a while, but I've got the means to win. (The board is almost empty, Elizabeth only having her King and Bishop while Booker retained his King, 1 Pawn, and Queen.)
Elizabeth: This is why it's nice to know how to really play the game. Else it just turns to a big mess.
Booker: A very empty big mess.
Elizabeth: Well, it's all the same I suppose. Would you like to go now?
Booker: What, why?
Elizabeth: I mean, this game's going nowhere and you have better pieces still standing, so…
Booker: But-
Elizabeth: You didn't even want to play to begin with!
Booker: But quitting now seems pointless.
Elizabeth: Continuing now seems pointless. (She sighs) Perhaps we shouldn't have played it to begin with. Just smothered it in the crib.
Booker: Kind of morbid, don't you think?
Elizabeth: Please, morbid is your line of work.
Booker: (Pausing, giving a slight offense) So, New York?
Elizabeth: (Nodding solemnly) Do you want the code now?
Booker: Sure. (He grabbed his suitcase and set it on the table)
Elizabeth: They're letters. Not numbers. (She still has a gloomy resentment in her voice)
Booker: (With a puzzled expression he opens up the suitcase)
Elizabeth: C-A-G-E. Musical notes. C-A-G-E.
Booker: (He is seen messing with something inside the suitcase, checking behind his shoulder every now and again to keep his eye on the odd duo. His paranoia builds up, something he isn't too used to. After some time of fidgeting, a series of pings come from the case. The pings, of course, being in accordance to C-A-G-E.) That should do it.
Elizabeth: (Taking a last sip of coffee) Well that's it then. (She idly spoke) The seed of the prophet shall sit the throne, and drown in flame, the mountain of man.
Booker: (Looking back up at her with a worried expression) Let's… Let's start heading out.
(And like that, the two were cleaning their tabletop and heading to the clerk to pay their dues. They did so in a timely manner, not drawn out but not too rushed either, and headed to the door. It was on their way out that when they passed the twins' table, they were kept from heading to that door of sweet escape.)
Rosalind: One goes into a game knowing one could fail.
Robert: But one does not go into a game knowing one has failed.
End of Act 1