Enigma

King

The night was clear and crisp, cutting into my terrible headache. I walked towards the club, inconspicuous enough for the general public, but the true test was would I be suspicious to the bishops. Endlessly serving their king, they were simple, not difficult to fool. Even this considered, I still needed to put on a smile.

I reached the bouncer, flashing a suggestive grin. He looked at my teeth, then my eyes, then I can only assume that my subliminal message reached him. Unhooking the fragile velvetine rope from its post with a clink, he moved with no questions. I was in.

I walked into the loud room, glancing at the people around me. They were oblivious, and as far as I was concerned, pawns in my game of chess. They had no idea of what was going on in the small room above the infinite party.

I stood still for a while, checking my makeup, looking at people, socializing with the bartender. This wasn't my favored location. Too many people, too little money. Nobody needs an excess of pawns, much less poor pawns. I played with my pearls, daintily walking up to the aging oak stairway.

Climbing the stairs, I took one last glance at the room. It was dim, loud, and filled with people. Not a place you'd assume was a hotbed for what I like to call chess. We played in secret, high stakes games. We played in silence and secret, not in trashy night clubs. However when you stripped the people, lights, and dj equipment, the room left behind was just a simple meeting room. Peeling purple paint, wooden accents, and an oddly placed reflective ceiling. After my last glances, I looked up at the old oak door before me. It was towering, but not intimidating. My mission was a beautiful alliteration, easy to say and nice to hear. The truth of it was harder though. But I've always preferred elaborate lies over simple truths.

One knock. Two knocks. Three knocks. That was the code to talk to the King. If you got it wrong however, you wouldn't talk to anybody ever again. People would see you on the news briefly but soon, that would all go away. I am extremely good at helping people go away, and that is why I'm here. Although the King holds less power than the queen in our little chess game, he has infinite influence and an iron image.

The large oak door swung open, and I stepped into the room. It was oddly stereotypical, like a room that a rejected bond villain took up business in. I glanced at the walls, my beautifuly curled hair bouncing slightly. He was sitting there, in the small, stuffy room, looking at me with cold brown eyes. I looked at him with my blue ones, making sure to conceal myself as much as possible. I winked at the men behind him, noticing they were armed. As soon as I noticed this little detail, I smiled gently, knowing it was over.

The queen had met the rooks, and she wasn't planning on a surrender. I stared at them with my sinister blue eyes, and they glared at me, one move away from my obliteration.

The last thing I saw were those cold, soulless eyes, staring at me as I heard the click and bang of a gun. Someone had been removed from the game.

But it wasn't me who was out of the game. The gun was mine, and the game was now mine as well.

I wouldn't say chess is unpredictable. It has a formula. A science.

All it takes is a click.

Then a bang.

Checkmate.