Be the chess player, not the piece.

- Ralph Charell

The dark stench of stale beer was a permanent reminder that the owner of the bar cared little for the patron’s that frequent this hole in the wall. The rundown greasy dive was under the dank corner of a busy city that was at the center of the universe, also known as coordinates 0.0.0.0.1.

The weight of a thousand years took a toll on the core which was translated to deep craggy forehead wrinkles of the man who entered this particular bar.

He ambled in and narrowed his eyes which exaggerated his crow’s feet and scanned the room with his wytch sight. The pupils dilated as the sea green hue darkened to a hunter green. With the little ambient light that attempted to enter this bar would give the onlooker any hint his eyes were even green at all.

In the corner sat a broken seductress in a red silk dress as two slowly aging businessmen, drunk off cheap beer, attended to her needs. A wrecked galactic shire reeve, a type of intergalactic sheriff, stared blankly into a cup of now cold tea.

The patrons payed only a passing interest, other than a slight nod, to the newcomer. The man tightened his grip on around the handle of his leather briefcase. He clenched his fist tightly.

In his mind, he calculated the threat levels of all the individuals in the room, how to kill them and who would run, save for one. It was the individual who was seated in the middle of the room, studying a chessboard carefully.

The newcomer blinked his eyes, turning off his wytch sight. He made the mistake once of looking into his opponents soul to size him up.

It was only a momentary glance. The kind of peek a man uses to stare at someone while in the presence of his spouse. The time he took to look, the same time it would take an electron to move, he was nearly destroyed by the countermeasures of the man sitting at the table. The man, with his tabby orange cat ears and long gray trench coat glanced up from the board.

“About time, you got here,” he said in a slight whisper. “I thought I was going to have to play with myself, today.”

The older-looking man nodded and took a chair, opposite of his and say down.

He bowed his head and said, “Not like anyone would have noticed around here.”

“You would know, you picked the place,” he let out a sigh of frustration, “By the Ancestors, I can’t even get a decent telepathic message out.”

The old guy smiled. This area had an unusual effect on mental telepathy, it slowed communication, and neither of them would be able to communicate with their living computers.

The older-looking man opened up his briefcase. The white chess turned to sand and blew away by some unknown wind. His opponent carefully watched from across the table through his violet eyes. In turn, he waved his hand across the board and the black chess pieces appeared.

They both studied the pieces, making sure they were all in the same place from where they left off. Once they were satisfied, they gave each other a slight nod of approval.

In the corner sat a broken seductress in a red silk dress as two slowly aging businessmen, drunk off cheap beer, attended to her needs. A wrecked galactic shire reeve, a type of intergalactic sheriff, stared blankly into a cup of now cold tea.

The other patrons played only a passing interest, other than a slight nod, to the newcomer. The man tightened his grip on around the handle of his leather briefcase. He clenched his fist tightly. In his mind, he calculated the threat levels of all the individuals in the room, how to kill them and who would run, save for one. It was the individual who was seated in the middle of the room, studying a chessboard carefully.

The newcomer blinked his eyes, turning off his wytch sight. He made the mistake once of looking into his opponents soul to size him up. It was only a momentary glance. The kind of peek a man uses to stare at someone while in the presence of his spouse. The time he took to look, the same time it would take an electron to move, he was nearly destroyed by the countermeasures of the man sitting at the table. The man, with his tabby orange cat ears and long gray trench coat glanced up.

“About time, you got here,” he said in a slight whisper. “I thought I was going to have to play with myself, today.”

The older-looking man nodded and took a chair, opposite. “If you did, no one ever notices.”

“You would know, you picked the place,” he let out a sigh of frustration, “By the Ancestors, I can’t even get a decent telepathic message out.” The old guy smiled. This area had an unusual effect on mental telepathy, it slowed communication, and neither of them would be able to communicate with their living computers. The older-looking man opened up his briefcase. The white chess turned to sand and blew away by some unknown wind. His opponent carefully watched from across the table through his violet cat eyes. In turn, he waved his hand across the board and the black chess pieces appeared.

They both studied the pieces, making sure they were all in the same place from where they left off. Once they were satisfied, they gave each other a slight nod of approval.

“I believe it’s your move Emperor,” the older-looking man stated respectfully.

Despite the differences in appearances the younger man with the chestnut brown hair was well past the age of 10,000 years of age.

“Your bar smells like crap,” the Emperor muttered.

“Trying to switch the venue, Emperor?” he asked with a slight hint of a smile on his face.

Changing the subject back the Emperor message left his lips with the reluctance of knowingly walking into a trap, “I know it’s my turn.”

The older gentlemen sat back with the confidence of a python about to finish off his prey. He lowered his guard as the pupils in his eyes shape-shifted back to snake-like slits. In three moves he would win. If the thinking computer predicted correctly his opponent moves correctly, the Emperor would advance his pawn and convert it to a Queen in order to get him to move his knight.

“Knight’s pawn to G1,” the Emperor said with a slight hesitation in his voice.

“There was an 87% chance you would have done that, now. Now upgrade that pawn to a queen so I can finish this game once and for all,” he said confidently.

“You really think you won this game, young one?” he said with a friendly smile, his demeanor changes. The violet cat eyes stared into the snake eyes as his ears twitched.

“Your queen will only delay my victory by one move,” he hissed back.

“Pawn, upgrade to a knight!” the Cat-Emperor said as he steepled his hands over his mouse and slowly leaned closer. The dynamic suddenly changed.

The dynamic suddenly changed. Instinctively, the older-looking man reached out mentally to his living computer. His mind stretched out to it as a child reaches for that forbidden toy, a system with that could process at sub-infinite calculations per millisecond. The substandard conditions inside the bar prevented it.

“He must have planned for this. Stick to the plan,” he told himself before his mind started to panic. “Rook’s pawn to B7, destroy that pawn!”

The piece moved by an unseen force. The black knight’s pawn faded away in a wisp of smoke.

“Your knight’s pawn had the potential to be a powerful force and run the entire city, why did you make him a knight? I need to know.” the older-looking man demanded.

“And have him destroyed by your King’s knight? No thank you. Besides he’s more useful as a knight. Now, King’s knight to F3.” ordered the Emperor said.

The white knight turned to sand as the black knight occupied the new territory. “Check, and mate in 1 move, if you really want to drag this out.”

Deep inside his mind, he made the calculations and realized he was correct. There was no way out, and to drag this out would be an exercise in futility. He briefly contemplated pulling out his knife and stabbing the Emperor in the neck.

He flipped his wytch sight on and off to see what defenses were on. The Emperor’s aura was checkered with black and white, with flecks of gold. He tried to remember the meaning.

“Any attack will be instantly countered and returned back to the caster, and at 10 times the strength” his memory told him.

He sighed and tipped his king over, the sign of surrender. While it was only a game for casual onlookers, it had real-world implications. Each piece represented a person on the planes of reality. In this particular case the Capital city of the Feline-home world.

It was better to surrender now he told himself, without losing too many on-the-ground assets.

“Crap,” the older man muttered, “Why all this trouble…” he said reaching into his pocket to pull out a small black vial that housed a green liquid. Inside the liquid, a diminutive silver object, in the shape of a right angle floated in the middle. “…for only part of a useless title?”

The Emperor snatched it up and placed it in his gray trench-coat pocket. The older-looking guy took a deep breath and let out a long sigh.

“Oh, it’s not useless young one. At least not to me, it isn’t. The title is nothing without being complete,” the Emperor gave with a big Cheshire smile.

He leaned closer, almost within whisper distance, “it has the ability to transcend earth-bound reality and…”

“I know all of this,” he hissed back cutting off the Emperor “and anyone who has studied the congenital border long enough knows that the full title would allow someone to rewrite the rules that are bound to CB-1 without incurring paradox or resistance. It would be as if the new rules were always in place.”

“Now young one, examine the pieces with your wytch sight,” the Emperor suggested.

The older man concentrated and his eyes began to glow with a blue hue. Each piece was connected to thin strands of fate, like strings on a puppet, which were bound to the earth realm’s congenital border.

The King’s bishop’s lines were a translucent white, the purest of the pure within the light spectrum. He followed the multiple lines it led him to see a Seraph Angel. His aura was white and glowing brighter by the second. It was similar to a million candlelight Q-beam that was still only half powered up.

The Queen’s bishop was a Rank-4 Paladin attached to the Inquisitional Order of the Main Ancestor Church in the Feline-home world.

Next, his eyes traced ink black strands of fate that wrapped around the Queen. He saw a small demure, almost delicate, female sitting in the Lotus position in front of a purple star-shaped candle. She was only a few years younger than the Emperor. He examined her black and olive green aura. It seemed to have a sentient existence that was separate from the Queen.

He focused his vision on her aura to study it closer. It appeared to be made up of serpents that were twisting and wearing around her.

From behind her, a few of the serpents coiled together to form a larger serpent. Its scales shifted to a metallic golden sheen with hints of midnight black in the depression of the deep grooves. The six red eyes of the serpent stared back at him, into his soul, into the souls of his past lives. The eyes were connected to the 6 planes of hell, carved from the cores of their respective planes.

He could see it was being restrained by her black leather collar around her neck. She playfully tugged at the single pink strip of ribbon, which was wrapped around her finger and connect to her leather collar. It started to open his mouth lazily. He knew it was time to back off.

He suddenly came to the realization and blurted out, “You do realize what has happened to if I captured that piece?”

“I understand the risks as well as those who assisted me,” he responded, “Everyone was a willing volunteer.”

He nodded and said, “But even with the fully completed title, it won’t do anything for you, Emperor,”

“Oh, young one, I guess that what happens when you look at a tree instead of the forest. Try again,” he said calmly again.

The older looking man concentrated on the full picture. The intersecting lines overlapped and connected to each other and formed a shape. It was the symbol for the Anomaly or ‘The One’.

It was a foul cursed title that was muttered in secret by magic users or disgruntled students, right before they get slapped across the face by an elder. In reality, young task mages were taught that a coin (like magic) had two sides, heads, and tails.

When they progressed in power, they would learn that a coin, or magic, had three sides (heads, tails, and side). To sail the 'side' was to invite oblivion, but only ‘The One’ could manage to do both. If the Emperor had access to ‘The One’ he couldn’t be stopped, no matter what he chose to do.

He let out a sigh, his cabal would not be happy with this.

“So what WAS the price for Queen ’s assistance?” he asked, not expecting an answer.

“There’s this really nice Italian restaurant I promised to take her to once I won,” he casually replied.

“WHAT!?!?!?!” he yelled causing everyone in the bar to stop momentarily. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Two patrons got up and left.

“I know, right? I personally would have asked for surf and turf, but don't ask me, I’m just a cat.” He said with a sigh of relief patting his wallet.

“You watch too much TV-crystal,” the older-looking man muttered.

Two humanoid lizards slithered out the door followed by another alien with two heads. As the travelers passed by the older looking man glanced up towards the door.

The Emperor, who couldn’t hold his poker face as he caught sight of the Queen, smiled at her when she stuck her head in the door just long enough to shout “Come on Boss Kitty, I’m hungry!”

The Emperor waved his hand over the chessboard and the black pieces disappeared. He gave a nod in her direction.

“You sure you don’t want seafood instead?” he asked, hoping to sway her mind.

“You can get Spaghetti di Mare. Quit tryin’ to rat out of this, a deal’s ah deal,” she said her voice trailing off as they left together.

The older looking man grabbed his briefcase and his pieces turned to sand and blew away.

“Fuck,” he said to out loud to no one in particular, “My people are defiantly not going to like this.”