Fake Chess: A Superhero Comedy Adventure: Fake Superhero, #3

CHAPTER ONE

Dreaming about chess is a sign of two possible issues in a person:

1) They play way too much chess and should probably devote at least a portion of their time to something less obsession-inducing, such as croquet or marbles, or;

2) You’re suffering from some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder from having to play a game of chess against a guy LARPing as a chess piece, with your friends’ lives at stake

As a doctor—although not a ‘real’ one because I’d never actually gone to med school—it was tough to diagnose myself sometimes, especially when I was asleep. But the second diagnosis did seem a bit more believable to me right now, mostly because I had a recurring nightmare of that exact scenario.

I found myself standing in the middle of a massive chessboard, black and white squares laid out in alternating color patterns. Behind me, the White pieces stood together like an army waiting to battle, but the pieces were ridiculously huge. The pawns alone towered over me, their marble-like surface shining under a light that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere. The main pieces towered even over them, making me feel very, very small, and very, very powerless.

On the opposite side of the board, the Black pieces were lined up similarly and were just as tall as their White counterparts. They somehow looked even more intimidating than the White pieces behind me, their dark surfaces reflecting the bright light overhead rather sinisterly.

And for some reason it was really cold, cold enough that I could see my breath. Chills ran up and down my spine, while the dusty smell of freezing stone entered my nostrils. Even my tightly-fitted cloth gloves did little to fight off the cold or keep me warm, and I might as well have been naked for all the good my stupid superhero costume did. It didn’t help that I was missing my Mind-Bender Crown, either, leaving me feeling very vulnerable.

I looked around the chessboard in confusion, whipping my head this way and that as I tried to make sense of my environment. Hello? Is anybody there? Hello?

The utter silence was deafening. It was as if I was stuck in the cold void of space, shouting into utter emptiness that had no beginning or end. Maybe that’s overly dramatic, but dreams are pretty dramatic in my experience.

That was when the familiar young, male voice of my nephew, Joaquin ‘Goggles’ Manuel, said, Uncle … help …

I whirled around on the spot, desperately searching for my nephew, only to stop when I spotted him. Or what I thought was him, because what I saw couldn’t possibly have been Goggles, even if it did have his young, bronze-skinned face.

The White pawn directly in front of me had Goggles’ face on it. His eyes were even covered by his trademark goggles. But from the neck down, he was a literal pawn. An expression of absolute fear and pain was written across his young face, making him look as if he was suffering.

Joaquin? I said with a soft gasp. What happened to—

Brother, came a deeper male voice to Goggles’ left. Brother, please help …

I looked to Goggles’ left and felt my heart crack at the sight of my older brother, Bryan ‘Brave Storm’ Manuel, who looked like an older version of his son except with shorter hair and more lines in his skin. His face, like Goggles’, was seemingly attached to the face of another White pawn that was on the board. And like Goggles, he wore an expression of pure pain and agony on his face, as if the very state of his being was nothing but pure torture.

In fact, when I looked up and down the line of White pawns, I saw that all of my teammates’ faces were represented. Lumberjack, Cavewoman, Shining Armor, Paranoyd, Holiday Man … the faces of every person on the team were represented. Even Penny Parker, the reporter on my payroll, had her face set upon one of the pawns.

What the hell? I said, stepping backward. What happened to everyone? Why is everyone cosplaying as pawns?

You did this, Doctor, said Lumberjack, his Canadian-accented voice thick with pain. "Because you failed us … because you failed everyone … we are all going to die …"

Doctor Mind’s fault, Cavewoman chimed in an equally lifeless but still painful voice. Doctor Mind’s fault. His fault.

Doctor Mind’s fault, everyone suddenly started chanting in unison. We are all dead because of Doctor Mind. It is Doctor Mind’s fault. Doctor Mind’s fault. Doctor Mind’s fault.

As the chanting continued, I put my hands on my head and said, Please! I didn’t mean to fail you guys. It was an accident. Please forgive me. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.

But it was no use. None of my words seemed to get through to my friends, who continued to chant Doctor Mind’s fault like it was some kind of terrible ad slogan for a new line of shoes or something.

Then a new, yet familiar Eastern European voice behind me said, "You hear the voices of your friends, Doctor. They all blame you for their predicament."

I whirled around again but didn’t see the source of the voice at first. That is, until I looked up and found myself staring directly into the ‘face’ of a gigantic White pawn.

No. It wasn’t actually a pawn. It was a giant human being dressed as a pawn, the E2 pawn specifically, which was reflected by the massive ‘E2’ painted on his face in red paint. His actual face was completely obscured by his mask, but that did not stop me from sensing the malicious cruelty hidden behind it.

E2? I said, my voice sounding a lot more echo-y in here for some reason. What are you doing here? This is my dream, not yours.

E2 chuckled. Your dream? Or your nightmare?

The droning chants of my friends behind me suddenly picked up in volume and pace. I now felt like I was being bombarded on all sides by the loudest rock music played from the biggest speakers:

Doctor Mind’s fault … Doctor Mind’s fault … Doctor Mind’s fault … your fault, Doctor … you failed us, Uncle … brother, you didn’t save us …

Grunting, I tried to ignore the chants, but I couldn’t. Even slamming my hands over my ears did nothing to protect my hearing. Actually, when I covered my ears, it was like I could hear them in my mind, which was far creepier and weirder than hearing them with my ears. Their words bounced around inside my head, making me feel like my skull was about to burst from the sound.

I’m sorry, I said, my voice barely audible above the mindless chants. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did wrong, but I’m sorry.

E2’s maniacal laughter could be heard overhead suddenly. ‘Sorry’ isn’t good enough, Doctor. If it was, your friends would not currently be blaming you for all their woes.

I looked up at E2 again. He somehow seemed even bigger than before, the Black pieces before him looking more proportionally correct. He raised one massive hand and picked up the King’s Pawn on his side of the board.

But I am a merciful opponent, said E2. Unlike certain individuals I know, I do not believe in prolonging the suffering of my opponents. I do not enjoy cruelty or torture … much.

Another wave of Doctor Mind’s fault knocked me to my knees on the solid stone chessboard, but I managed to keep my gaze fixed on E2 above. Please … make it all end. It’s too much … too much … too—

If you wish, said E2. Checkmate, Doctor.

With that, E2 brought his Black pawn down on me.

I didn’t even try to move. I was so overwhelmed with sadness and guilt that all I could do was watch as the bottom of the pawn came down on my head.

But the very instant the oversized chess piece crashed down on top of me, I felt two small, but strong hands shake me awake and then heard Goggles’ familiar excited voice to my side shout, Uncle, wake up! You gotta see this.

Waking up with a start, I looked around wildly. For a moment, I wondered where the giant E2 was or what happened to the oversized chessboard that I’d been unfortunate enough to find myself on.

I was sitting in the seat of a rather cramped airplane, the air dry and stale. The leather seat I sat upon was kind of lumpy and rough, though infinitely more comfortable and better on my knees than the stone chessboard had been. The hum of the airplane’s engines could be faintly heard, while the warm temperature of the plane’s interior was a sharp contrast to the utter cold of the void in my dream. The scent of coffee and crackers filled the air, which came from the table in front of me, which had a barely-touched coffee cup in front of it along with some crackers that looked just as untouched.

Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I said, Uh, what? What’s going on? What happened?

You fell asleep, Uncle, said Goggles, his voice slightly concerned. During the flight.

I looked to my left. Goggles, my sidekick, sat in the seat to my left. He wasn’t wearing his sidekick costume this time, however. Instead, he wore a black hoodie over a red t-shirt and jeans, his dark, messy hair looking even messier than usual. His green eyes looked up at me with a mixture of worry and concern. Are you okay, Uncle?

Uncle Roger is probably fine, said my brother’s voice to my right. He’s just tired after a twelve-hour flight.

Again startled, I looked to my right. Brave Storm, my brother and fellow Fakers teammate, sat in the seat beside me, his tablet set up in front of him, having paused a movie he was watching. He looked just like he did in the dream, if in significantly less pain and misery. He wore a tan button-down shirt and blue slacks, which made him look rather different from his son.

Rubbing my face, I said, Has it really been twelve hours? No wonder I’m exhausted. I’ve never flown that long before.

Me neither, said Goggles. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Maybe that’s why everyone else is asleep."

I looked to my right across the aisle. My other teammates were all also asleep. Shining Armor leaned against the window on the opposite side, snoring softly, while Paranoyd and Holiday Man slumped in their seats, with Holiday Man resting his head on a soft stuffed Easter bunny that he’d taken with him. Cavewoman and Lumberjack sat in the row directly behind those three, with Cavewoman snoring like a backfiring truck and Lumberjack muttering in his sleep about destroying all trees.

And they all looked as safe and secure as they usually did. None of their faces were surgically attached to oversized chess pieces.

And I definitely did not see any giant E2s trying to crush me with Black pawns.

Although I’d known that it had been a dream, seeing my friends safe and sound took a huge weight off my shoulders. Looking at everyone else also reminded me of why we were on this plane in the first place.

Last month, I’d gotten invited to the first-ever International Superhero Chess Tournament in Cheskia, a teeny tiny Eastern European country between Russia and the Ukraine. Cheskia was not known for much beyond producing more chess Grandmasters in the last century than the next ten countries on the list combined. My invitation had come from the Chess King himself, while the Cheskian government was paying for all the expenses associated with the trip. That included the plane tickets for my team, food, hotel … literally everything.

Being a proud money-grubbing miser, you can see why an all-expenses-paid trip to a foreign country appealed to me. Foreign travel was expensive, especially if you wanted to bring seven other people with you.

Maybe it would have been smarter to leave some of my teammates behind in Freedom City, Oklahoma to keep the peace while I was away, but I didn’t like letting my teammates out of my sight for even a second. I was worried that one of them might accidentally burn the whole city down while I was away or something worse. Besides, supervillain activity in the city had dropped through the floor recently, so I figured the FCPD could handle the normal criminal scum that they usually dealt with.

Of course, there was no direct flight from Freedom City, Oklahoma, to Chess City, Cheskia, so our flight had taken us through several layovers and flight changes, especially once we got to Europe. That had been stressful enough, especially when we stopped in Germany and Lumberjack nearly incited an all-out brawl with a bunch of environmentalist activists protesting some kind of new factory getting built. Although Germany might not be fascist anymore, I found that their government and police were still pretty good about threatening to crush you if you didn’t pay fines.

In any case, Germany had been our last stop in Europe before we boarded a plane to Cheskia. Supposedly, the last leg of the trip was just two hours, but I must have fallen asleep at some point without realizing it and therefore did not know what time it was.

How long have I been out? I said, rubbing my eyes again.

An hour and a half, said Goggles. He pointed out the window again. But there’s something I really want you to see. It’s cool and weird.

Sitting back in my seat, I said, Thanks, Goggles, but I’ve looked out many plane windows in my time. The sight is impressive the first few times, but then it gets kind of stale.

"But Uncle, I doubt you’ve ever seen this thing before, said Goggles. He pointed out the window again. I can’t really describe it. You should look for yourself."

Feeling a bit annoyed at Goggles’ insistence, I nonetheless leaned across his lap to look out his window, sure that I would see nothing other than the steep, craggy steppes that I wouldn’t be able to make out any details from thousands of feet up in the air.

That was why I was shocked when I saw what could only be described as the world’s largest chessboard stretched out on the ground below us for miles and miles in every direction for as far as the eye could see.

CHAPTER TWO

The chessboard below made the oversized chessboard in my dream look positively tiny. Vast tracts of perfect black and white squares covered the countryside everywhere. Yet I could still see trees, bushes, roads, and buildings and cars below, though they just barely stood out against the blackness and whiteness of their environment. It almost looked like someone had covered half the country in snow and the other half in soot before carefully cutting it into neat squares and rearranging it to resemble the world’s biggest chessboard.

What … am … I looking at? I said.

The great country of Cheskia, of course, said a smooth feminine Eastern-European-accented voice behind me.

Startled, I looked over my shoulder to see a pretty young woman standing in the aisles between our seats. She was probably in her early twenties, with short, curly blonde hair done in a very professional style. Based on the blue-and-white Arid Airlines uniform she wore, I could tell that the woman—whose name tag read ‘OLGA’—was one of our flight attendants. She was smiling in a friendly way, but there was a hint of distance underneath the expression, as if she was trying not to be too friendly toward us. A whiff of vanilla perfume wafted off her form.

"That is Cheskia?" said Goggles, pointing out his window at the chessboard below.

Olga nodded, her hands clasped in front of her skirt. Yes.

But it looks like a giant chessboard, I said. "Scratch that. It looks like God’s chessboard."

Olga giggled. Funny. That is actually one of the country’s old names. God’s Chessboard. Very fitting, too, because when Cheskia was first founded, it was designed to resemble a chessboard by the very first Chess King.

Brave Storm stared at Olga in disbelief. "Are you telling me, miss, that your government deliberately designed the entire country to look like a huge chessboard?"

Indeed, said Olga, looking at Brave Storm as if he was a bit daft. Isn’t it beautiful?

Most countries are not designed to look like giant chessboards, ma’am, said Brave Storm. Or like any particular shape.

Olga furrowed her brows. Huh. How strange. You foreigners certainly come from odd countries.

That seemed a bit rich coming from a Cheskian, but then Goggles said, But how did they color everything white and black? Did they just dump a lot of paint on everything or what?

Olga giggled again. You are a funny American! No, that’s not paint. Due to the unusual environmental pressures that have been put on Cheskia, the plants in this country are all either white or black. The dirt also is white or black, depending on where you go, and each region in the country is named after a different square on the chessboard. For example, we are en route to E1, which is the location of Chess City, the capital of the country.

My head hurt as I tried to wrap my mind around her explanation. "So the shape of the country is deliberate, but the colors are natural."

Quite so, Olga said cheerfully. Admittedly, the government does put a lot of resources into making sure that black plants only grow on Black squares and vice versa, but that’s merely a matter of science, not nature.

You sure do know a lot about Cheskia for being a flight attendant, Brave Storm observed. If you asked me why America looks the way it does, I wouldn’t even be able to tell you that.

Olga drew herself up proudly and, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face, said, Cheskia’s education system is the envy of the whole world. It is also the only country in the world to make chess education mandatory, which is part of the reason why Cheskia has produced so many Grandmasters.

I knew that, at least, I said with a nod. I jerked a thumb over my shoulder at the country below. It was the literal shape of the country that I knew nothing about.

You didn’t? said Goggles, giving me a puzzled look. But Uncle, I thought you were a chess player who knew everything about Cheskia.

I raised my hands defensively. "I didn’t say I knew everything about Cheskia. I just happen to be a fan of several Grandmasters from there. Learned a bit about the country by listening to their interviews, although none of them ever mentioned the country’s literal shape."

Interest appeared in Olga’s eyes and she leaned forward, practically across Brave Storm’s lap, to look at me closer. Wait, you play chess, sir? Are you a Grandmaster yourself?

Leaning away from the woman’s slightly manic gaze, I said, Er, no. I’m not even an International Master, honestly. I’m decent, but not the best.

Oh, said Olga, disappointment leaking into her eyes. Are you coming to Cheskia to participate in a tournament or something?

I nodded. Yeah. I was invited to the International Superhero Chess Tournament by the Chess King himself.

The light in Olga’s eyes changed again, this time to something that looked … suspicious?

No. Not suspicion.

Realization.

Olga pulled away suddenly and brushed her hair back. Ah, so you must be the famous Doctor Mind who I’ve heard so much about.

I looked at Olga in surprise. You’ve heard of me?

Of course. Olga’s smile seemed cooler for some reason. There aren’t very many chess-playing superheroes in the world, so you have always stood out to the people of Cheskia. At least, to those of us who are interested in that kind of thing. The video of your defeat of the infamous Death Skull did go viral in Cheskia, though, at least among those of us who care.

I raised an eyebrow. That’s an odd way of putting it.

Olga shook her head and smiled at me again. Never mind. I am simply excited to get to meet a real-life superhero for the first time, especially an American superhero like you.

It was my turn to get suspicious of Olga, but her statement prompted another question from me. You’ve never met a superhero before?

Olga shook her head. No, never. We have only one superhero, which is more than enough for our country. We are mostly protected by the Four Arms of Cheskia instead.

The Four Arms of Cheskia? Goggles repeated. What are those?

The Chess King, the Chess Queen, the Bishops, and the Knights, Olga recited immediately, like an old nursery rhyme she’d memorized a long time ago. Along with the might of the Cheskian military, the Four Arms have traditionally protected Cheskia since its founding. They’re a bit like superheroes themselves, although their methods tend to be a little different from how you American superheroes operate.

I rested my chin in my hand. The Four Arms … sounds like a superhero team name to me, although I’m still partial to ‘Fakers,’ of course.

And you even brought your team with you? said Olga, looking around at the seats nearest mine. She clapped her hands together excitedly. I had heard rumors that the Chess King had invited you to the tournament, but didn’t realize that included the entire team as well. How exciting.

Only I’m participating, I’m afraid, I said. I gestured at my sleeping teammates. They’re just along for the ride.

I see, said Olga. Well, it will be interesting to watch you play against the superheroes from the other countries. It will certainly be a unique tournament, at any rate.

Exactly how many other superheroes are going to be in this tournament, if you don’t mind me asking? I said. I tried to look up the numbers online, but couldn’t find anything definitive. Lots of speculation, though.

Olga clasped her hands together apologetically. I am sorry, but I do not know any more than you do about the tournament. I am a simple pawn in the grand scheme of things, so I am never told important things like that.

Goggles frowned. No need to be so tough on yourself, lady. You’re a real person, too. You’re nobody’s pawn.

Olga giggled again. Thank you for the kind words, but ‘pawns’ is simply what we call the citizens of Cheskia. We are all pawns of the Chess King and his Queen. That is all.

I rubbed my chin. Pawn with a capital ‘P’ or a lowercase?

Olga looked at me in confusion. Lowercase, typically. Why do you ask?

I shrugged. No reason, other than I met a guy who called himself a ‘Pawn’ back in America. Went by E2. Ever heard of him?

Olga’s expression changed so quickly that I would have dismissed it as my imagination going crazy if I didn’t see it with my own eyes. For a very brief moment, she looked as if I’d accused her of being a terrorist plotting to kill hundreds of people.

But then her kind, polite, and perhaps too professional smile returned. I am sorry, but I have never heard of anyone who has named themselves after a position on the chessboard. Sounds like you superheroes run into some very strange people.

I frowned slightly, but said, We do. Lots of weird people in the world, including ourselves.

Olga once more giggled. Very true. Well, unless you need anything else, I must get going. It was nice getting to chat with a famous American superhero. Hopefully we will get another chance to speak soon. Good luck with the tournament!

With that, Olga walked down the aisle, stopping a few rows down to speak with another passenger, an elderly man wearing a top hat and monocle. I watched her for a moment, but Olga did not do anything suspicious, so I turned my attention to my lap in thought.

That Olga lady was kind of cute, said Goggles. He sighed. Wish she was a little younger, though.

Definitely pretty, said Brave Storm. He elbowed me. I saw the way you were looking at her, Roger. Bet if you’d asked her out she would have said yes.

Startled, I looked at Brave Storm in astonishment. "Asked her out? What are you talking about? I’m not interested in her that way."

Then why were you looking at her so intently, Uncle? said Goggles. His eyes became wide and strangely focused. Like this. It was kind of creepy, actually.

I grimaced. Er, it was … nothing. I just was interested to learn more about Cheskia. It’s definitely a weird place, isn’t it?

Brave Storm nodded. Definitely, and we haven’t even stepped foot there yet. Wonder what it will be like once we’re actually on the ground.

I also nodded, but felt my attention starting to wander. My eyes drifted back to Olga, but she’d already retreated further down the aisle, near the cockpit, where she stood with a couple of her fellow flight attendants, chatting animatedly with them in a language that I assumed was Cheskian.

I will admit, I lied to my brother and nephew. Not about my feelings for Olga, but why I had paid her such special attention. It had less to do with her looks or personality and more to do with the fact that I suspected she knew more than she let on.

Maybe I was paranoid, but I didn’t think so. It was suspicious enough that the Chess King would send one of his servants to play me in a life-or-death game of chess, only to invite me to a tournament not even a week later, and pay for all my travel expenses, too.

But it was even more suspicious how Olga apparently knew nothing about E2 or his involvement in getting me to come to Cheskia in the first place.

No, I strongly suspected that Olga knew something about E2 and the Chess King. Seemed odd that a simple flight attendant and ‘pawn’ would know anything about whatever was going on in the highest echelons of the Cheskian government, but I couldn’t rule out anything at this point.

In any case, I sincerely doubted I would learn more about the Chess King’s real motives for inviting me to Cheskia on this flight. Now that we were actually in Cheskian airspace, it wouldn’t be much longer before we landed in Chess City.

And after my interaction with Olga, I was starting to look forward to our arrival even less.

CHAPTER THREE

Our plane landed at the Cheskian International Airport about half an hour after my conversation with Olga. The pilot repeated the warning twice, once in English, the second time in Cheskian, which was when I realized that a large number of our fellow passengers were apparently Cheskians returning home from America. Most of them looked like normal people to me, though, aside from the distinctive blond hair and sharp features that appeared to be common to people from that country.

Stepping into the Cheskian International Airport terminal, however, was when it really struck me that we were no longer in America.

The airport floor had the same black-and-white design as the country, making the terminal look like a big (but smaller than the country itself) chessboard. Paintings of different chess pieces were hung along the walls in between screens that listed the times of departing and arriving flights. The airport itself smelled strongly of some kind of savory bread, I think, though I couldn’t tell where the scent was coming from. It was also kind of cold,