If they want a part of you, who can really blame them?

[chesspolitik]

Was it deja-vu if he really had done all of this before? Anatoly couldn't help but ponder this question as he entered the hall and prepared to take his seat in front of the chessboard. His opponent was already at the board, scowling at the board. The Arbiter was skulking behind him, arms crossed, impatient for the game to begin. Molokov and de Courcey were studiously ignoring each other; the reporters were waiting with baited breath for something, anything to happen. Indeed, Lex's calm presence on the sidelines was the only reminder to him that this was not a dream.

He took a deep breath and waited for the Arbiter to finish his speech. This was going to be different then the last time. This time, his mind was clear and unfettered from distractions. If he lost today, it was because Trumper had outplayed him, not out of a sense of duty to Florence or his family. He was done playing games with the CIA and KGB, done being used as a pawn. If he lost, he was the only one to blame.

But then, he did not plan on losing. He'd lost something vital the moment he'd bowed to pressure and deliberately made the wrong move. This game was a chance, perhaps his only chance at redemption, at reclaiming what had made him the most formidable player on the circuit. He needed to prove to himself that he was the best, the very best - and he wanted to show Lex just what he was capable of.

The Arbiter concluded his speech and nodded at them to begin, having long ago given up on making him and Trumper shake hands first. He was playing black, so the first move was Trumper's. The whole world was watching, this was true, but the whole world had no idea what it was about to get.

Comments

[decourcyonrocks.livejournal.com]

Once the match was clearly decided, Walter saw no reason to stay around. He left two of his men to do some clean up work and get Freddie out before he made a scene, but he wasn't going to stick and around for the Russian rage he knew would be directed at him, not when there were more important things for him to move on too.

Leaving the hotel which had served as the chess arena, Walter hailed a cab and adjusted his sunglasses. There was a situation in Cuba that needed his attention and he'd delayed long enough here. No point in dwelling on a failed mission, just on to the next.

[molokovcocktail.livejournal.com]

As the Arbiter confirmed Anatoly's victory, Molokov could only stare in shock, his fists clenching uselessly at his side. He was going to kill the bastard and he was going to do it very slowly and painfully. The American would watch and then it would be his turn. And after that, it was Walter's turn.

He barely noticed as his assistant dragged him from the room, frantically murmuring something about self control and keeping his hands away from his gun.

[onceihaddreams.livejournal.com]

Svetlana didn't know the outcome of the game because she hadn't been there. Nor did she care. Either way, she lost.

If Anatoly lost, it would be for that Hungarian woman's father. If Anatoly won, it would be to impress the American man. Neither for his family, who he should care about above all others. It was one thing to know of it through Molokov...it was an entirely different matter when it was done to her face.

So instead of watching the game, Svetlana was in her room, packing. If she never saw her husband again, it would be to soon. She would find her own to provide for her and her children. Without him.