Aug 20, 2010 17:38
Dieter liked the Compound well enough in that it always had something by way of a distraction from the altogether dull routine that he had slowly developed on the island. Whether it was a book to read, a film to watch, music to listen to, or some sport to play, there was always something. This particular day found him in the rec room, holding a chess set in his hands and inspecting it as though he expected something more of what he had found.
He couldn't remember the last time he had played.
(That was a lie. He remembered. He just didn't particularly care to. It had been two months - maybe three - before his death, playing with a small ivory set in the basement of a pub in Paris. He'd won the match and pocketed a nominal sum for it. They'd raided a house the next day. He'd remained outside the whole time, standing on the curb smoking a cigarette as the soldiers under his command tore down the front door and charged in.)
Taking a few steps towards one of the tables with the chess set, he set it down upon the surface, then pulling up a chair and sitting down. Slowly, he set up the board, placing the pieces where they were supposed to go and wondering briefly if he might be able to find anyone to play against him. Although, he supposed, it wouldn't be too much of a loss to just play himself.