"Right. Now that you know the rules, you can start first."
Peter swallowed, slightly nervous to be the first one playing. He moved his pawn forward.
"A pawn can't move diagonally to start. Only when it's capturing."
Peter retracted his move, then moved his pawn two spaces forward. Erik nodded, then moved his own pawn as well. As the two played, Erik began explaining the details and strategy of the game itself. Peter's mind kept up easily, but it was still hard to comprehend and keep everything straight. Peter was slightly impressed; he didn't know Erik would be this thorough.
"When did you learn how to play chess?" Peter asked once the long explanation of the strategy behind castling was through.
"Got interested in my teens. Got really interested when I befriended Charles and learned that he played as well."
Peter nodded, about to respond. Erik, however, got there first.
"Check."
Peter blinked, moving his king.
"You can't move into checkmate."
Peter retracted his king, staring at the board with more focus. There! An open spot! Peter moved his king out of harm's way, but Erik was now on the attack.
"Check," he said again.
Peter took Erik's bishop with his rook, but Erik's knight took Peter's rook soon after.
"Check," Erik said.
"How much?" Peter muttered, laughing a bit and moving his king again.
Erik began to get up, moving one last piece. "Checkmate, kid."
Peter paused, then stared at the board, checking to make sure Erik's words were true. How had he not seen that coming?
"Don't sweat it, Peter," Erik said, clapping Peter on the shoulder as he made his way out of the room, "everyone has trouble when they first learn."
Peter stared at the board for a few moments, still unable to believe that he'd lost. Where had the time gone? How had he lost so fast? The game had begun and ended so quickly that Peter hadn't found out anything about Erik, except the fact that he was an excellent chess player! How did that help him at all?
And even worse was that he'd looked like a fool! In front of Erik! How stupid was he? Why hadn't he practiced and studied more? Was he that idiotic to think that he'd be able to not only match, but best his father in a game on the first try? A game that he'd never played before and that Erik was a master at?
Now a bit angry and depressed with himself, Peter placed his music in his ears, turned on "No More No More," got the chess book from underneath the couch, then returned to his bedroom and threw himself into study. Next time would be different. Next time, he'd play chess to win, though it wasn't chess he cared about much as finding out more about his father. That was his true goal. If it took becoming a chess master to do that, then Peter would become the greatest chess player in existence.
Erik had given him a practice game and practically volunteered to teach Peter himself. Well, imagine Erik's surprise when Peter would be on par with him! It would happen! If, no, when their next chess match came, Peter knew that he would be ready; he didn't want this chess match to ever happen again. It was humiliating and a bit depressing.
More than anything, Peter wanted to converse with his father. He wanted to know everything about him. If a chess game was the route to that, then so be it. And in the process, maybe he could even impress Erik.
Flipping through the book at light speed, Peter was just finishing the final chapter on the usefulness of pawns before remembering something. In a flash, he was inside Charles' study, recalling that he'd seen several books on chess strategy a few weeks ago when Charles had attempted to convince him to learn how to play. Now he was voluntarily learning for his own reasons. Talk about crazy.
Jackpot. Sweeping his eyes over the room, Peter spied several chess books on the bookshelf, and instantly he had them all in hand and, sitting down, spread them out in front of him as he inspected his stash. Several beginner, intermediate, and even a few advanced books on the rules and strategy of chess now lay at his fingertips, and Peter was surprised at how excited he was at the concept of actually reading something. Something as boring as chess. Normally he wouldn't even touch the game of chess, much less a book on the subject. But this was different. This was a plan.
Peter opened the first book and poured through it, taking in every sentence and memorizing every strategy. It was hard. It was exhausting. It was great. He soaked up all the information like a sponge, taking less than sixty seconds per book as he read and reread every sentence.
Wanting to test out all the different moves that the book talked about, Peter snatched the chessboard from the library and brought it into Charles' study, playing a game in ten seconds using the tactics the book described before resetting the board and doing it again. Again and again. Over and over. Peter finished three books and read five more, at the same time noting every single strategy and method of attack. He cruised through the beginners books on chess and headed straight into intermediate and advanced within five minutes.
Now hungry, Peter took Art of Attack with him and raced into the kitchen, making himself two dozen hot dogs and eating six as he read another chapter. Still pouring through the books, Peter's eyes never left the page as he consumed his snack, then he snapped the book shut and ate his last hot dog.
There. Finished. He'd even read every book in the mansion on chess. All things considered, it was only about twenty books, all dictionary length. Not that much for Quicksilver to read through. And since he was done reading, the time for action was now.
Placing his goggles over his eyes, Quicksilver raced out of the mansion and circled the entire world in several different directions within a minute, hanging a right in China and speeding into a national chess tournament. He sped through the building, took note of every player and every move, then moved onto Europe.
There he found several more chess tournaments and even more strategies. Then America, Australia, and every European country, as well as practically every state in America. They were local, regional, and professional. Great to watch and learn from. He was just watching someone from France castle when he remembered that there was a championship going on in China. Speeding back to China in a moment, Peter watched the gameplay for a moment before moving a piece for a boy who seemed about to move himself into check. That was the best move, anyway, and he'd practiced enough that he could actually see fifteen moves ahead in most cases. Besides, if he didn't practice playing now, he might never learn and be ready to face his father. He wanted to be on par with him; he wanted to force Erik into a conversation that he wasn't even aware of. Chess was the best medium to do that in. While Erik focused on the game, Peter could ask him questions while his attention was averted. It was gold.
Rushing back to France, Peter moved a chess piece for another kid, then did the same in Australia. He continued this with several other countries and regional and international championships before he managed to checkmate ninety-five percent of his opponents. The only slow part was having to wait for the other person to make a move, but Peter was proud with his progress and the outcome. Talk about a quick chess game.
Now hungry and satisfied, Peter realized that the sun was starting to rise. Wow, so it was already morning of the next day? Dang. He returned to the mansion and grabbed fifteen more hot dogs, piling them high with leftover chili, cheese, and bacon. He sat down, somehow not feeling tired in the slightest, and ate at the speed of Quicksilver. Due to his amazing metabolism that allowed him to do everything fast, he also was able to sleep fast. Hours and hours of sleep was something that he did simply to pass the time every so often; not because he really needed it. A minute of sleep for him was forty-five hours anyway. Now finished with his snack, Peter made his way to the living room and found the rest of his friends sitting while simultaneously stretching and yawning, still in the process of waking up. He sat down on the couch and startled everyone, effectively waking them up much more than their coffee did.
"You were gone all night," Ororo said. "What were you doing?"
"Getting in some chess practice," Peter said.
"What for?" Raven asked.
"Finally got a game out of Erik," Peter said.
Now everyone seemed to be smiling in understanding. Peter just ignored them, then raced to get six burgers and a pizza from the kitchen before returning to the living room.
"Vas the chess fun to play?" Kurt asked.
"A blast, actually," Peter said. "I managed to defeat ninety-five percent of my opponents in regional and international tournaments." Peter smirked, put his arms behind his head, and put his feet up, leaning back.
"How'd you manage that?" Hank asked.
"Being Quicksilver," Peter said. "I went through Europe, China, and the States and hit every tournament there was. I played a couple hundred games of chess within about eight hours. I think I'm pretty good now, but I'll study up some more before I challenge Magnet again, just to be safe."
"You are studyving to go against Erik?" Kurt asked.
"Or Baldy," Peter said, "at least as a practice game before I take on Magnet again. But I doubt that Baldy could beat me in chess even if he tried."
"And this baldy could also make you believe your legs were broken," Charles said, entering the room and making everyone jump.
"Hey, Baldy," Peter said, jumping up. "Want to play a game of chess? I'm pretty good now."
"Only if you stop calling me Baldy."
Peter shrugged. "All right, Wheelchair. You up for a game?"
"I would prefer if you used my real name," Charles said. Then he sighed. "All right, Peter. As promised, one game of chess."
Peter, rubbing his hands in excitement, raced into Charles' study in a blink, re-reading five more books on the strategy of chess and playing fifty games by himself by the time Charles entered the room.
"All right, Peter. Let's play chess."
"Sweet," Peter said, taking a seat and waiting for Charles to begin the game. "After playing a game with Magnet, I threw myself into studying. I've been studying for the last eight hours, so I think I'll do pretty good. Might even beat you. What do you think about that?"
"Peter," Charles laughed, "I think it takes more than eight hours to master a game of logic that people like myself study for years."
"I'm Quicksilver, remember?" Peter said. "For me, eight hours is two years."
Charles blinked. "Touché. What sparked your interest in chess anyway?" he asked as he took the first move. "You've been here several weeks, and only recently . . . quite recently, have you taken any interest in a game you previously called a time-waster."
Peter shrugged, taking his move in less than a second. Didn't Charles already know, or was he just trying to get him to admit to his motives? "You talked to Erik already, right? You know the reason."
"I may have talked to Erik, but I didn't read his mind."
Peter frowned. Did Charles really not know, or was he just playing dumb? "Come on, Wheelchair. You read minds; you already know."
Charles chuckled as he moved another piece. "Peter, just because I can read your mind, doesn't mean I do so on a daily basis."
Peter moved his own chess piece, blinking. "You're pulling my leg, Wheelchair. You know what's going on."
Charles took another move, and Peter took his move soon after. Now things were getting interesting, but not just on the chessboard. "I'd rather not read minds if I don't have to, Peter," Charles said. "Tell me, what is it that I'm unaware of?"
Peter shrugged. It was almost impossible for him to think that the one person who still didn't know the truth about Erik could also read minds. Everyone else in the mansion had known for two weeks already. Talk about irony. "About Erik and me. Don't you know? Don't you?"
"I know that you broke him out of prison, and you seem to have taken a bit of a liking to him, but I am unaware of anything else," Charles said, moving his piece forward and now looking quizzically at Peter.
Peter looked out of the study's window as he answered. "Well . . . Erik's my father."
Peter would've heard the gasp all the way from Finland. Charles' mouth fell open in shock. He blinked several times in amazement, then beamed stronger than a ray of sun on the equator. "Peter, this is spectacular!"
Peter didn't know what was so spectacular about it. Why did everyone have such a strong reaction to Erik's being his father? "What's so amazing about it?"
Charles took a deep breath to calm himself. "Hold on, Peter, are you certain of this?"
"Well, yeah. My mom knew a guy who could bend metal, and I just put the pieces together."
"And you haven't told Erik yet?"
"Haven't told me what?"
Peter froze, whirling around and seeing Erik standing in the doorway. Had he heard? Did he already know? Peter opened his mouth twice, but Charles was there to save him in a heartbeat.
"Has Peter told you how good he is at chess?" Charles rested his chin on one hand. "You know, I think he could give you a run for your money, Erik. A few more moves and I might've been in trouble."
"I think you're giving him too much credit, Charles," Erik said. "I played against him last night and he wasn't that hard to beat."
Peter blinked, then found his voice. "I've been playing for eight hours already. I'm better than last time."
Erik snorted. "Really. Eight hours."
Peter's eyes narrowed, and he stood up and approached Erik boldly. "For me, one of your seconds is forty-five minutes. A minute is forty-five hours. An hour of your time is one hundred twelve days, and a day for you is seven years for me. So, Magnet, how long have you been playing chess?"
"I told you Erik," said Charles with his arms folded, "this kid's good. He's got brains as well as speed."
"And brawn," Erik said, rubbing his shoulder.
Peter nodded. "I think I got them all from my father."
"I wonder what he thinks of having a son like you," Erik said.
"Don't know," Peter said coolly. "Never met the guy. So, we gonna play chess or not?"
Erik looked at Charles, then back to Peter. He snorted. "Looks like I'm pinned in from all angles. All right. One game."
Peter grinned and immediately dismantled the game he and Charles were playing, resetting the board to normal. "Do you care who plays first?"
Erik moved to take a seat opposite Peter before pausing. "No . . . you do remember what each piece does, don't you?"
Peter's eyes narrowed in a bit of a sneer. "You do know how to castle, don't you?"
Erik blinked. "I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't confuse the rook for the bishop."
"No, I know that once you checkmate the pawn, the game's over."
Erik's mouth twitched upward. "Do you want Charles to coach you?"
Peter held back a smile of his own. "I think I'll manage. So, do you want to go first?"
"No, you can."
