11 – The Best Laid Plans

By Chronic Guardian

Written for Twelve Shots of Summer: Seventh Soul, Week 11 – Hopes and Dreams/Erase

"What sort of man becomes Composer?"

Goumaki chuckles. It's the wrong question. The Composer writes the rules of the Game. Anyone can theoretically become Composer, it's how one navigates the current game that counts. If he only comes out on top by mimicking the current incumbent, he might as well give up now.

Still, he's willing to humor the sentiment if it gains him an ally. "A man willing to sacrifice the shell of humanity binding him to the earth," he tells the man behind him. Only a minute ago, he had been discussing the idea with his fists. It's refreshing to have moved on to words. "A man who respects his resources, but isn't afraid to use them."

"Oho?" The other man, a platinum blond fellow who looks late twenties but holds himself like he's younger, comes a little closer. There is a hiss as he sheathes his sword, then a light rhythmic tapping as its cane scabbard resumes its previous use. "That's a dangerous sentiment in some circles."

"Some circles are filled with hypocrites."

This gets a laugh from the defeated gentleman. "What about you then, Mr. New Guy? Are you a hypocrite?"

"No," Goumaki shakes his head. "That's not my kind of dishonesty."

"A scoundrel with standards… my kind of man."

"So are you in, then?"

"Well… why not." The blond man shrugs and slaps Goumaki between the shoulder blades. Goumaki takes the blow without moving and keeps his gaze fixed on the far side of the alley they've conducted their qualifying interview in. "I've been waiting for something fun to do lately," he goes on. "Might as well see how far you get."

"A worthy answer, Knight."

"Knight?" the blond man sounds condescendingly amused. "Not sure how you Easterners do it, but back where I come from that's the monarch's job handing out titles like that."

"Is that any way to treat your future Composer?"

"Touche." Again, the blond man laughs. "Well, I suppose I should call you King, then."
"Yes," Goumaki Mushin smiles at the title and turns to go. "I think you should."

Once outside the alley, he is again just another Reaper. Or he appears as one, at least. Red and black hoodies out on patrol pass him by, Support Reapers open walls to let him through, and Players turn the other way when they catch sight of him. Even those watching with more than their eyes don't realize the difference.

When he reaches the UG district boundary in south Shibuya, he stops to put his hand on the wall. To most of the UG denizens, it is the border of their continued existence. A second later, the wall crackles as it swallows first his hand, then the rest of his body.

And just like that, Goumaki steps away from the board. The Composer may send another Reaper after him as a curiosity, but nothing will actually happen. The newly recruited Knight isn't in any danger, and any move the Composer makes now will only serve to tell Goumaki the mind of his opponent.

For now, he is content to appear as if he is waiting.

When he arrives back at the apartment he calls home, he places a black knight on the board then brings a bishop to stand just behind it.

-o-0-o-

The next target is still a Player when he finds her. Her existence is erratic, inextricably entwined with the fleeting winds of fortune. In life, it was tuned to the positive, every moment of chance ended in her favor. In death…

Well, suffice to say Goumaki made a few modifications before passing her off to the Game at large.

Her Partner takes her unpredictable nature as a sign they need to train more to reduce the uncertainties. Goumaki returns to his experiment just as the training maneuvers turn tragic. The Partner goes down to a 'chance' encounter with the Knight. It's the perfect opportunity to make an entrance and rescue her from the remaining Noise.

"Just my luck," she murmurs, mostly to herself. "Even when I should be dead, even the freakin' Reapers try to keep me alive."

Goumaki smiles. He has a time limit to work with here before she destabilizes due to Partner loss, but he's confident he can make the right moves within those bounds. "You don't want to be saved?" he offers, dismissing the Knight with a wave of his hand. The blond man eyes the remaining Player like a cat eying a second mouse before trotting off.

"It doesn't make a difference," she looks away with a soft frown. "I only have seven minutes once my Partner's gone. Even if you saved me on a whim, we can't outride reality forever."

Her tone takes a strange dip, as if she is more troubled by her existence extending than ending. He can read it in her soul: everything has always gone right for her. She has seen the universe bend in half to shield her and she is sick of it. She wants challenge, she wants change. And, if she cannot have those things, she wants an end, if only to prove she is more than the generous gifts thrown in her lap.

Unfortunately for her, it would seem her luck sides with Goumaki.

"I'm not looking to outride reality," he tells her with calculated disinterest. "I'm looking to change it."

"What? Like rewrite the rules of existence?"

He nods and rubs away some stray Noise residue between his thumb and forefinger. "That's what Composers do, yes."

"You don't look like a Composer."

"Indeed. But an egg need not resemble a dragon to become one."

"If that's the case, then I don't see how I fit into all that," she says. "Luck doesn't stop nature. If you're a dragon under all that soft skin then go be a dragon."

"You misunderstand. It's not that I need to be lucky. To be honest, I despise luck. I'd rather it not factor into my game at all." He moves closer as he talks, allowing his eyes to wander as he does so. "If it must come in, let it be to my opponent's detriment."

He doesn't mention that he's already reversed her luck. Instead of being a magnet for good luck, she's now a conduit for bad. If she joins him he can teach her to channel it, to bend it, to make it more of a tool and less of a cage.

For a few seconds she tries again to evaluate him with her eyes, lips pursed, arms crossed. Despite the show, he can tell she's floundering. She's not used to a world where the answers don't slip into her lap, but he can also tell she's warming to the challenge.

"So you want to even your odds?" she asks. She's looking at him, but not making eye contact. Even with her relative inexperience it seems she can sense he's a dangerous man.

"Partly," he returns. "Games aren't any fun without some measure of risk, though."

"...Yeah," she nods and slowly relaxes her posture. "You got that right."

"So, can I count on you?"

"I dunno. You feeling lucky?"
He grins and takes her hand. A moment later and her composition has restablized. To the Game administrators, it will seem as if she has simply dissolved before her countdown. He gives her a black Reaper hoodie and they leave behind the last pieces of her former life.

Goumaki doesn't ask her for a name. On official business she is his Bishop. Outside that, she is simply the Black Cat. It is a name steeped in superstition, but he doesn't mind.

So long as she is always following him, there's no danger she'll cross his path.

-o-0-o-

Things in Shibuya heat up after the latest recruitment. The Knight falls into trouble with the back end peons trying to run numbers on his extracurricular escapades. Disappointing as the development is, Goumaki takes his Bishop and does his best to continue their recruitment efforts in Shinjuku.

Where Shibuya is a thoroughly commercial district, Shinjuku dedicates a considerable real estate to shrines. It feels more settled, more mature, More traditional.

Goumaki grits his teeth and tells himself it will only be for a little while.

Shibuya by contrast is beautifully volatile, so alive with change he can feel it burning under his feet, begging for form. It's a pawn's battlefield: the grave of many attempts but proving ground of queens. Of all the things the current Composer is doing with his domain, Goumaki must admit he has at least not managed to kill this aspect of it.

Shinjuku is an entirely different Game. The first thing Goumaki notices upon entering is that the Support Reapers here gather in squads. They wear simple monastic robes emblazoned with the Reaper's skull, but their Soul vibe is still similar enough to their Shibuya brethren that he can identify them by feel. He spends an afternoon with the Bishop watching them from rooftops, both for his own observations and to hone her skills.

"Luck can be broken up into two categories," he tells her as the counterfeit priests make ready to welcome a fresh batch of Players. They're probably called something else in this district, but their role is similar enough that Goumaki doesn't bother with it. "First: passive luck. Fateful favors dealt out on a whim. A plum that ripens and falls into an open hand. Second: active luck. This deals more with intention."

"Such as selecting the most fitting simile for a given audience?"

"...That's one way to put it, yes. The intuition as one blindly reaches for the proverbial needle in the haystack. So bad luck misguides that intuition. For example, if these fine henchpriests of Shinjuku were to be looking for us..."

"They wouldn't think to look up until after they'd passed us," the Bishop concludes, nodding as the patrol moves past with a purpose. "Interesting..."

"Exactly. In matters of uncertainty, you will be my shield. In more concrete terms, though—"

"You'll need someone less flaky than the blond guy with the cane."

Goumaki shifts the interruption a shrewd glance. Bishop isn't looking at him, but her mouth twitches as he studies her. A moment more and her fingers start agitatedly twisting the hem of the hoodie he gifted her.

"...Yes," he continues on firmly. "We're here for our Rook. Someone sturdy, but open to change. Keep the patrols off of me and I'll have him soon enough."

"And then what?"
He stops and lifts an eyebrow at her.

"I… I'm not used to doing things like this," she says with a cross firmness, as if she's mad at him for making her articulate it. "Usually everything just falls into place. I haven't had to think about tomorrow since the day I was born."

A small laugh ejects from his chest and he runs a hand through his coarse dark hair. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"What if something happens, though? Luck doesn't cover everything, otherwise you wouldn't need more than me. What if—?"

She stops short in a huff and glares at him again.

"Well…" he rolls his tongue in his cheek and looks away. It's a valid concern, but it's the wrong kind of question. Everything could always go wrong. That's the nature of the game: life isn't fair.

But that doesn't mean it's not winnable.

He shrugs. "We won't know unless we play. Leave that part to me. Just follow my orders and I'll handle the rest."

The girl keeps her eyes on him, but her glare softens. "...Alright," she lets out. "Guess I have no choice."

"No, there's always a choice."

"Yeah?"
"But the other choice is a meaningless death in this scenario."
"...Heh." Despite the darkness of the joke—or perhaps because of it—she cracks a smile. "Fair enough, King."

-o-0-o-

The Rook is an easy sell. A young Persian looking to step outside his role as a boardroom pawn. He died trying to out drink a CEO after a round of negotiations went to his head. He hovers on the fence about finishing the Game as a Player, leaning heavily on the Reaper route, then Goumaki makes the choice for him and whisks him away into the obvious better option.

A month later and the Rook has yet to regret his decision.

"He's a blockhead," the Bishop reports after her latest shift with the young man.

Goumaki smiles to himself while he arranges the pieces on his chess board. "Blockheads are fine, so long as you know where to place them."

"Place him somewhere I don't have to be. I can't stand this."

"Patience. We can have our space once we're finished. For now we need to stick together."

Bishop plays with the hem of her hoodie, a gesture of discomfort quickly becoming familiar, and looks away. "Well I hope we don't get stuck with him," she mutters after a long pause.

"Now now, there's no point in wasting a piece."

"Well then use him to bait out the Shibuya Composer."

"I'll make him our first Game Master," he promises, taking the black queen and inspecting it. "If a man of his pedigree disappears in that line of work, I can only assume he is rather… unlucky."

"...Understood, sir."

"Speaking of bait, though, I assume you have more to report than your frustration with our Rook?"

"Yes, sir. We've aroused the Shibuya group's suspicions."

"Contact with the Knight?"

"Yes sir. Sightings of a possible Queen depending on who ends up investigating us. We'll need you to make the judgment, of course, but the Knight likes our odds."

"Wonderful," Goumaki returns the queen piece to the table and turns to get his jacket on the way out. "In that case, enjoy your break."

"Sir?"

"I said relax, Bishop. This one is mine."

After all, a Queen's place is with her King.

-o-0-o-

The Officer selected to hunt Goumaki's group is something of a traditionalist. She isn't an outcast like the other members he has surrounded himself with, she is a woman of culture, a holdover from the previous administration. Some call her Lady Fate. Goumaki calls her wasted talent. Rumor has it she was originally a geisha, an entertainer and artisan.

Given her stirring abilities in the UG, Goumaki can only imagine she was a master of her craft. She manages to slip her way through every situation as if invisible. Even when directly confronted, reports say she can simply glance the blows off. If she continues, she may even make a fine Conductor someday.

That someday would likely come a lot sooner had the current Conductor not isolated her from the rest of the operation. It's really a pity. Goumaki would think the man overjoyed to finally have an impervious loyalist on his hands.

But that's just the problem to it: no one can get their claws into her. And while it isn't necessarily rare for a Reaper to scheme against the standing administration, she happens to fall on the dangerous intersection of talented and listless. She is a seed in want of a garden, and the current administration can only take her for a weed.

Goumaki, on the other hand, is hungry for a heart to his operation, and he will splice his way into an entirely different plane to find it if he has to.

Being a man of expedience, though, he lures the woman out by forcing the Conductor's hand and hunting fringe patrols and straggling Players with the Knight. The Conductor doesn't care much for his own pawns, but he cannot stand disorder. It presents the perfect opportunity to bring out his wild card. As soon as the Game week ends, the woman is sent to hunt him in earnest.

Goumaki selects their meeting ground near Miyashita Park and takes his time clearing out the surrounding pawns. They charge against him armed with pure ambition. Even as the remnants of their Soul scatter to the wind, he can practically taste their fiercely individual drive. Not even a hint of loyalty.

He settles down on his knees when he finishes, taking a moment to regain himself. It isn't often he allows himself to indulge in moves like this when he is overwhelmingly outmatched. Pawns are more useful in what they stop others from doing, how they restrict options for those lacking in resolve or tactical sense. However, given the Conductor's reckless deployment, it is fair to assume he won't impede himself for their sake. An entire battalion sent to slaughter…

Or, perhaps not an entire battalion. Goumaki's ear's twitch as he catches the distinct sound of a body dragging itself through the grass. Unless the Officer he intends to make queen has lost the use of her legs, it would seem the Knight has neglected to finish clearing his side of the field.

"My, aren't you persistent?" he sighs without looking. "Foolish, too. After what you've seen, you should know there is no point in facing me, least of all in your current state."

"Someone—" the survivor, a woman by her timbre, gasps out. "S-someone had to do it."

It's a curious response. Try as he might, he can't detect any false bravado or hidden motive in the statement. Unlike her legion of fallen comrades, she isn't in this for herself. "You're awfully loyal," he remarks. "I'll be sure to tell the Conductor. It's a shame he's wasting you like this."

"He's p-protecting Shibuya."

Goumaki smirks to himself. "He's smothering it."

"I… won't let… you—"

"Won't let me what?"

She gives a shuddering breath and he senses a spike in energy. The loose Soul of the fallen pawns shifts and it takes him a moment to realize she's the one commanding it. Finally, he stands and turns, finding a woman leaking static with a single hand raised towards him.

"T-time…" A light formed in her palm. "Be—"

Goumaki raises his own hands and draws them apart, as if stretching something between them. "Splice," he pronounces calmly, laying out his incantation. "Turn, Castle."

The next instant, he is behind her. The shock causes her to lose control of the forming Psych and it destabilizes, backfiring only a moment later. She crumples backwards into his arms.

Still, the fact that she could even begin to form it is impressive.

He looks down into her eyes as she convulses against him. Still filled with determination, still defiant even in her helplessness. He sighs. "A pity..."

"Pity?" A new voice enters the scene. Looking up, Goumaki sees the piece he actually came to claim, making her way across the park from beneath a parasol. She catches his glance and offers a thin smile. "Pity should be saved for potential wasted," the new woman continues on. "Don't burden the weak with an expectation beyond their measure."

Lowering his previous opponent to the ground, Goumaki sets his mouth in a neutral line and shakes the stiffness out of his arms. Perhaps he is wrong about the pawn. She lacks refinement, certainly, but there is an undeniable ambition to her. Perhaps she could be trained, rebuilt, promoted, given the right circumstances.

But, again, Goumaki is a man of expedience.

"I should hope I don't have to pity you, then," he tells the Officer. "The Conductor seems intent on wasting your talents."

"And you wouldn't?" She says it like a challenge, lifting her chin and studying him like a woman staring down a ridiculous suitor.

He shrugs. "I have more need for a competent equal than the Conductor has for a dog. Although, if you'd rather I use this girl..."

All it takes is a glance back to the fallen Reaper. The Officer sniffs, then seems to flicker out of existence. Goumaki prepares himself for an attack, but doesn't visibly move. It's all the same in the end.

Standing in a cloud of smoldering static that only a second earlier had been a Reaper, the Officer reaches out and takes his arm.

"Don't compare me to her," she says in a low voice.

Goumaki brings on a smile and puts his hand over hers. "Certainly."

They step through the spot where the lesser Reaper had been as the last of the static clears and together leave the park.

-o-0-o-

Still, every proper operation needs its pawns. As Goumaki sets the board, he leaves his own front row desolate. After a moment's contemplation, he advances a single pawn to the sideline. If he is only given one, he intends to place it before the king. Of all the pieces, pawns and kings are the most evenly matched in their movements. More practically speaking, he doesn't intend to best the Composer toe to toe. If he is to overthrow the author of reality itself, he will need an element of mystery on his side, a front that appears weak before revealing his true strength.

It's a shame he had to sacrifice the girl in the park to get his Queen, but that's a manageable loss. Now the Queen is coordinating with his other subordinates looking for a replacement candidate. Eyes don't stick to her and even those who realize she is gone won't actually be able to match her in the field. If anything, he is more worried she will advance too far before the trap is properly set. He has given her clear boundaries to exert her free will within, and that is more than the current regime offered her. In time she will freely roam the board, but for now he requires constraint.

Picking up the single black pawn, he taps its point to his chin and studies the checkered board again. The Queen seems a naturally jealous creature and won't stand for competition. If he leaves the candidacy up to her, she will doubtless choose someone expendable. He doesn't really care so long as they perform their role well before Erasure.

But then, there is also the question of what to do with the rest of them when the time comes. Goumaki has put some thought into the matter, of course. He plans his moves beyond the present as a matter of habit. He has a contingency plan for every member of his little troupe in his back pocket and has never been one to shrink from the unseemly. However, while he is willing to sacrifice much to attain his dream, he still recognizes the bitterness of a king on a barren board.

He places the pawn back where he found it and busies himself with arranging the opposing side. It is an unusual game he is playing, certainly, but part of him knows he will miss the freedom of it.

-o-0-o-

"CHECKMATE?" the Knight repeats the title with a lightly amused smirk. He sits at the long meeting table idly rubbing the callouses on his thumb and forefinger together.
"Yes, a fitting name for our operation."

"Did you compose it on your own, or have you been listening overmuch to our Rook?"

Goumaki, placed at the head of the table with his chess set, shrugs and adopts a light frown. "You're not obligated to use it."

"Oh, how generous—"

"Just as I am not obligated to uphold our contract."

Silence falls over the meeting room. Most of them keep their eyes on Goumaki as the Rook takes a visual survey to figure out whether he should be laughing or not.

"...You're joking, right?" the Persian finally asks directly, at a loss for his own judgment.

"Of course he's joking," the Bishop mutters from her place against the wall, away from the others. "He's just not very funny."

The Knight chuckles and flips a hand through the platinum blond hair draped over his left eye. "Well what would you expect? He's a King, not a joker. The capering is all our lot."

"Still, better to call a spade a spade," the Queen says, her eyes on Goumaki's chess board. While she has come to sit at his right hand in most instances, she's at the far end of the table today. "Let us not forget a checkmate cannot be secured with any one piece."

"Wait," the Rook's face twists in further consternation as he again attempts to unravel the situation, "So you mean it's supposed to be a compliment?"

"Perhaps more a warning..." the Queen returns.

"A compliment to those who believe our cause," the King finally intercedes on his own behalf, "A warning to those who don't. Our victory over the current Composer will be through a mastery of chaos. What he chooses to set free in entropy, we will rule with purpose. Our purpose."

"Yes, 'our purpose'," the Knight repeats in a mocking drawl, "so long as it aligns with your own."

The room again falls silent. The Queen shifts a pointed look to the audacious 'young' man and almost opens her mouth to rebuke him when Goumaki laughs.

"My dear Knight," he says, spreading his arms in warm welcome of the criticism, "would you have it another way?"

"Oh, certainly not," the blond quips breezily. "It's just… having been around a good century longer than most of you, it's remarkable how the same ideas keep coming into fashion."

"Huh, Chess is fashionable?"

No one bothers to answer the Rook. The Bishop leans back and crosses her arms, the Queen looks to Goumaki to assert himself.

Goumaki simply adopts a light smile and gently rests a finger across the miniature ebony horse head on the board before him, gently tilting its base. "Well it certainly says something that you keep coming back to it," he tells the Knight. "I knew who I was choosing when I picked you. I rather hope you keep that roguish element, Jack, else I won't know what to do with you."

The Knight smiles in return, not domesticated but still appeased for the moment.

Satisfied, Goumaki presses on with their plan.

-o-0-o-

He has never told them his particular bent. Where the current Composer's UG seems built to express as many personalities as possible in simple, shareable terms, Goumaki is a natural specialist.

He calls it a Soul Revel, a Psych born of an individual's unique Soul and woven into their very being. Aspects such as the Bishop's ties to luck that are so inherent to an individual as to seem unquestionable are actually themselves yet another manifestation of Psychs.

However, in Goumaki's case, he has two. His first Soul Revel is to bend others, to enhance, invert, or redirect. He has turned the Rook's indomitable will into indomitable durability and the Queen's apartness from society into an aura that draws being itself apart.

His second is to splice time.

He suspects this is part of why he has always loved chess, a game that rewards those who pick apart the sequence of incoming events and gain command of the flow. It is not only in reading and redirecting the opponent, but in artificially bending time itself by taking the game in a sequence of chronologically indeterminate turns.

This is the secret to CHECKMATE's immaculate evasion whenever the current administration comes hunting for them. Goumaki's lair rests outside the normal flow of time, in a place called the Imaginary Plane. In this place beside the natural game board, he can sit back and watch as the pieces scramble looking for the player.

The only thing he regrets of the situation is that it has left him awfully lonely. For however much he tries to summon another of his kind, even going so far as to take his pieces with him off the board, he cannot find a true equal to join him at his game.

In that sense, he isn't insulted when the Knight mocks his claims to authority. He wouldn't expect anything more from a piece trapped in the reality of the game.

All the same, it does get a little tiresome being the only one who sees.

-o-0-o-

"Yo, boss," the Rook's voice comes distorted over the phone. Given the lengths Goumaki has gone through to get stable communication in the Imaginary Plane, it's a small annoyance he has resigned himself to living with. "Any word on what we're supposed to be looking for?"

"Interference," Goumaki returns dryly, leaning back in his chair. With everyone else out hunting for the proper Pawn, he is left behind at base. "You're keeping the way clear for the Knight."

"I... I mean, okay, but what's he looking for?"

"A solution."

"To whose problem?"

"Shibuya's."

"Wait, Shibuya's got a problem?"

"Of course," Goumaki reaches across the board and pushes back the white king so it rests on the edge of the checkered realm. "The whole thing is a boring mess. It has gone inert, and now its Composer only seems interested in a keeping it asleep."

"So we're trying to wake it up?"

"We're trying to set it free, to drive it to new heights. The city needs people like us. Whoever holds the throne holds the Soul of Shibuya."

"And for that you need a pond?"

"Pawn."
"Well, I mean, right. But isn't it the river where the Composer's got his set up?"

"...You're absolutely right Rook. I'll have the Knight scout for that next."

"Heh, no problem! Just doing my part, Leader!"

"Indeed. Keep doing that."

Goumaki hangs up and sighs to himself. The Rook may be an idiot, but he is straightforward and well meaning. If nothing else, he is easy to channel. There is something to appreciate in such people. Even if he lives his life in submission, he at least does so with his eyes open. He knows his place and serves it proudly.

Lifting up the black rook, he slides it forward on the table into a baiting position, covered by his bishop. His next move will remove that cover, but it's the initial confidence that's the important part.

Sitting back, Goumaki folds his hands and looks to his invisible opponent across the table, waiting for a response.

-o-0-o-

The pawns move on and off the board. Candidates come up, find their way into his hands, and expire before they're ready to use. The plan requires a spiritual fortitude they simply don't have, but risk is a fixed element of the game they play and Goumaki would rather play the consequences off the board rather than on.

"Shall we continue?" the Queen asks over the aftermath of their latest failure.

"Yes," Goumaki returns without hesitating. "It's the nature of the game. Linger not on the sacrifice, chase after the gain."

"...Of course, my lord."

A moment later and whatever doubts she is harboring slip away. It's not natural for anything to stick with her, and her time with him has only made it more so. Whatever isn't part of their goal will eventually fade. The only difference is whether or not they use their pieces to avenge each loss or to press further with hard won advantage. There will always be loss.

Such is the nature of the Game.

-o-0-o-

Goumaki wakes up in the middle of the night. It's an unusual occurrence, usually once he's decided to rest he runs the full eight hour cycle. Drawing himself back to full consciousness, he reaches out with his senses and tries to gauge whether or not he has been drawn out of the Imaginary Plane. Once he confirms his lair has not been destabilized, he takes mental inventory of what else might stir him from his intention.

The rest of CHECKMATE is still out hunting for a proper Pawn. He intends to start rotating them through rest periods soon, even if this one doesn't work out. The Knight finds his purpose in the pursuit anyway, so he can handle it alone. Goumaki, meanwhile, is left in the lair to maintain their secret bastion pressed against the Composer's realm. Moving to his phone, he checks the answering machine for messages, then heads towards the kitchen.

He pauses as he finds the Queen's parasol leaning against one of the counters. It's unlike her to leave it lying around. Even if he has been pushing her to her limits, she would still keep it in her room. Unless she lent it out to the Bishop or, god forbid, the Rook, there's no reason why it should be there.

As if to compound the carelessness, on his chess set on the table, he notices the black king has been tipped over.

And then Goumaki sees her, coming in from the pantry. There's still something off, she walks with less poise than usual. He gives her a smile but readies a Psych behind his back.

"Any luck hunting?" he asks politely.

She blinks at him, as if only now noticing his presence, before her mouth spreads in an uncharacteristic smile and she offers him a hand. Her usual untouchable aura is off, even more intangible than it should be. "So…" she says wistfully. "You're the one."

Even anticipating it, the slip shocks him backward. Goumaki brings his hand out, a pre-warmed Nexus Beam forming in his palm, and points it at the imposter. She flickers as it fire through her core, then solidifies again untouched.

"Fascinating," she continues on as the Queen's features begin to melt and shift. Her eyes soften and her hair sweeps back into a bun, taking on a more coffee-blonde tint than its usual gold. "I can see why Yoshiya thinks you'll be interesting. In terms of power alone, you make a fine match for him."

Yoshiya, Goumaki repeats in his head as he sends out rows of Ice Risers like frozen teeth sprouting from the ground. Who is Yoshiya?

"Unfortunately..." the woman pauses to casually spread her arms as if she were throwing open a set of doors, sending the incoming Psychs veering to the sides. "I can't let you play with him."

Goumaki grunts and cycles to a Shockwave Psych. "Play?"

"You're looking to topple Yoshiya, my Composer," she answers simply as he makes his first strike. She catches it with her bare hand, dissipating the associated energy, and holds him firmly. "And I'm afraid I can't let you do that. His appointed time to abdicate the throne has not arrived."

Despite himself, Goumaki cannot help but laugh. "So there was someone else," he says. "I wasn't playing alone. You've been watching the whole time."

"Indeed, Goumaki Mushin," she says. "And now I offer you grace, as a show of respect between artists."

He brushes off the condescension with a grin. "Tell me," his hand begins to glow with another Psych. "Did I ever have you? Was there a chance for a Checkmate?"
The woman smiles in return. His finger points at her face. She has miscalculated the King's capabilities, he is most deadly at close range. If he can just delve into her SOUL he can give himself an advantage. And if he can defeat her, than the Composer will be—

The whole world seems to stop as his elbow bends and his grasp inverts, burying his hand in his chest.

"You had a chance," she says. The words ring softly in his ears as the world grows dim. "In another timeline, you might have even succeeded. That's why I had to stop all of you."

Almost mechanically, Goumaki turns his head to the Queen's parasol, still resting where it shouldn't be. But it's not hers anymore, is it? Its owner is gone now, Erased. Was it only her? Had the others met the same fate?

Was it all… for nothing?

"If it's any consolation though," the stranger says, standing over him, "I won't forget you."

Goumaki's body convulses as if to laugh, but it's only static that spills out of his mouth.

Still, as the world around him fades, she stays. He feels another hand wrap around his and hold it until he can't feel anymore.

And in the dining room, he hears the quiet click as a piece rolls off the table and falls.

-END-

Author's Notes
Almost done! I know this piece is both a week late and rather depressing, but I wanted to do a Hybridverse CHECKMATE piece in honor of Hyoxjnn and his (now late) birthday! Yes, the ending is sort of an anti-climax, but that's the nature of the story. Reiko stepped in before things went as crazy as they did in X Days and that's part of where the timelines diverge. I only hope I did Goumaki Mushin some justice as a maniacal mastermind gathering his pieces while not being total villain cardboard.

Ah, but there's still one last shot to be had this Summer… Even as school starts and life gets crazy, I urge you to hang around and enjoy the Finale. We're almost there folks.

Stay Determined

-CG

[8/22/2020]