The inside of the bar lit up as jagged spears of lightning descended from the turbulent sky, the following thunder almost shaking the glass of the windows.
The storm had lasted days, not that it had been of any concern to Viktor. Much more important things occupied his mind.
'What the hell is taking that bloody fool so long?!'
He groggily raised his head from the bar table. His vision swam, his head still pounding from the last hangover, yet he managed to catch a figure briskly walking past his table.
"H…Hey YOU!!!"
He slurred.
"…Where's my DUCKING FRINK!!"
The figure stopped, turning to face him before sighing in a distinctly feminine voice.
"You haven't ordered anything since you finished your last one, sir. Also, we're closing now."
The sudden threat slapped a bit of sense back into him.
"Closing… What do you mean you're closing? This is a 24/7 bar."
The waitress just facepalmed, before pointing out a window, at the storm that had been slowly picking up strength.
Viktor's eyes followed her, before giving a derisive laugh.
"What? Don't tell me your boss is afraid of a little storm."
The frustration that had been growing on the waitress's face gave way to astonishment, marveling at the sheer drunken stupidity of the man. She regained her professionalism soon enough, calling out for her boss.
"Boss, we have a squatter."
Apparently, they were well-versed in dealing with his kind; it wasn't long before he was unceremoniously kicked out, left to soak in the bitter rain.
He shivered, before cursing.
"Do you fuckers know who I am? I can buy this fucking joint."
"Of course you can, I bet you've got enough money for a haircut too."
A voice sneered from behind the door, earning a round of laughs from the employees still present.
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Viktor patted his unkempt hair down before cursing, albeit more silently this time.
"Bloody fools."
He coughed, tightening his coat, before bolting towards his banged-up excuse of a car amidst the ever-increasing rain.
By the time he reached his car, he was already drenched. The wet cold made him fumble with his keys for a good while before the Toyota finally opened, giving him shelter from the rain.
Viktor sighed heavily as he settled in the driver's seat. The feeling of water dripping on the car floor reminded him that he still wore his soaked coat. Shivering, he clumsily removed the coat before chucking it to the back seats.
"At least my other clothes aren't completely fucked."
He slicked back his matted dark hair, before shivering again. He tried turning on the AC unit, which stayed coldly unresponsive.
He cursed, emptying his pockets to find a half-empty pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and a piece of brown paper.
Viktor quickly lit one of the cigarettes, carelessly taking deep drags at the cost of his lungs lashing out violently, leading to waves after waves of rattling coughs. Still, he savored the warmth of the slowly burning cig, even though the heat seemed to leak away far more quickly than it came.
With a cigarette in his mouth, his body relaxed a bit. His focus went down to the brown paper from his pocket; it was covered in seemingly nonsensical scribbles, checkerboards, badly drawn chess pieces, and numerous small chessboards. He stroked the paper almost affectionately, looking at it before sighing,
'I'd say where did it all go wrong… but who am I kidding.'
He laughed bitterly, releasing smoke.
'It's like a fucking joke. Definitely the worst I've ever heard.'
He coughed, yet still took another deep drag.
'Maybe if I could… haa… I'm being delusional again.'
None of that mattered anymore, his eyes found their way back to the paper. He coughed.
His lungs didn't matter anymore, all that did, all that ever had were the figures in the paper. It should have been a relic from a life long abandoned, but he knew it never would be; he wouldn't allow it, he simply couldn't.
He took out a notebook from a compartment, placing the book beside the paper, and started scribbling. In this moment, in all moments, nothing simply mattered more.
Yet even if Viktor was not of mind to note it, the storm outside steadily grew worse with each passing second, drowning the world in the pitter-patter of rain, and the thunderous sounds of lightning. But of course, for Viktor, none of that mattered.
It wasn't long before his cigarette pack finished. The car was suffocating now. Viktor looked out the window, cursing when he saw the storm was still raging.
'Great, freeze to death or suffocate… easy choice.'
He wound down the back windows a little, letting the moist winds of the storm flood his car, taking away the smoke and what little heat he had left with it.
He shivered once more, before trying to start the car. It sputtered, shaking a little before going silent. The man cursed, slamming his hands on the steering wheel.
'Even the bloody horn isn't working.'
He sighed, dropping his shoulders as he slumped into the seat. His eyes wandered around the car, pausing at the reflection in the rearview mirror.
A haggard excuse of a man, decked in a tattered shirt and stained jeans, his pale skin shivering as he curled up. Like a rat.
'Live a cheating rat, die a rat's death. Quite fitting, honestly'
He laughed, a cruel bitter chuckle before abruptly stopping.
"I…I guess this… this is the end, isn't it?"
He coughed, rattling and wheezing before finally closing his eyes.
But death didn't come; instead, his mind was interrupted by the crisp sound of fresh paper and the smell of rather stale air freshener.
Prying open his sunken eyes, he found a pristinely white piece of paper resting on his lap. More importantly, it had the stamp of the World Chess Organization on it.
'wait... WHAT!!'
Viktor immediately got to reading it. He was not of mind to ask how it got there.
---
AN INVITATION
Dearest Viktor Monroe,
It is with great pleasure that we invite you to participate in our new annual competition, The World Gambit. This competition will consist of 1024 of the most qualified participants chosen from all over the United States. The winner of this competition shall be granted the power to become World Champion; we believe you know very well what that means.
Note: The W.C.O shall not be liable for any and all damages or dangers that you may encounter during your participation. You will be transported to the competition venue the moment you sign this invitation; signing the invitation means that you completely accept all the terms and conditions applied.
Sign here: _______________
Yours faithfully,
W.C.O
---
Viktor's hands shook, a lump stuck in his throat as tears welled up in his eyes. "I… I can't believe it."
A part of his mind screamed that he was being delusional, that he shouldn't sign the strange paper. It screamed about all the cautions a sane mind would have taken. But Viktor was far past sanity; he was far past caring. He signed it almost immediately. After all, he had nothing to lose.
It all went silent for a moment, and then, he was gone. No clipping out of reality.