Jet Jaguar Chess

Isaac knelt down. “Jet Jaguar,” he said. “Why don’t you use 『VERIDIS QUO』on yourself?

Jet Jaguar sat silent. “Use it on myself…”

“You’re not so different from the rest of us,” Isaac said. “You probably have some flaws too. So why don’t you take a look at them?”

Jet Jaguar laughed. “So focused was I on correcting others… very well.”

He held his finger up to his head. “I shall see what it is like to self-reflect.”

Jet Jaguar sat in an empty white room. In front of him, a chess board. His pieces were of the purest white, shining examples of justice and the forces of good. They were shaped like his Rangers, arbiters of what was right, protectors of man.

The opposite side, pieces of inky black. His opponent had no face. But it had many names. Chaos. Entropy. Evil. Whatever it was, it was Jet Jaguar’s sworn enemy. And he would be the one to defeat it.

He moved his first pawn forward. So advanced was Jet Jaguar’s brain that his mind generated millions upon millions of potential outcomes. He identified a path to victory. And he worked to make it happen.

He took pieces. And he lost pieces. He made sacrifices. And when all was said and done, he lost.

He reset the board. He was bested this once. But so long as he persevered, evil would not triumph.

And so he tried again.

And again. And again. And again, and again, and again.

His strategies grew more aggressive. He sacrificed more pieces. And yet, he won not a single victory. He cursed himself for his failings. And he cursed his pieces for theirs. Pieces in the shapes of Isaac and Cable, of Linnya and Reggie, of JoJo and Obi-Wan, of Gloria and Foo Fighters. They all held insufficient. None of them could stop the tide of evil.

And so it was with a heavier and heavier heart the Jet Jaguar moved his pieces. Evil could not win. He would not allow it so.

He gripped the pieces. The ivory cracked. They lost their shine. As anger overtook him, he handled his pieces with less and less care. He did not care about his pieces. He needed to win.

He slammed his rook upon the board, a rook in the shape of Isaac Clarke. Check.

And the rook bled.

A pool of red blood stained the pristine chessboard. Jet Jaguar tried to calculate what had happened. Why was a chess piece bleeding? Why did it cry out in pain?

Could it even be considered a chess piece at all?

Jet Jaguar stopped himself, and forfeit that game. He had made a most grievous error. These pieces upon his board, whom he was so eager to sacrifice, so willing to abuse— they were living things. Living things he was sworn to protect.

He reset the pieces. And he made an effort not to destroy his enemy. But to maintain as many of his pieces as possible.

It was difficult. The board was only so big. At one point or another, pieces were bound to collide. At one point or another, sacrifices would have to be made. And at every point, Jet Jaguar still ultimately lost. But with each passing game, he lasted longer and longer, losing fewer and fewer pieces.

Until eventually, he found a way.

He did not find a way to win. But he found a way to protect all his pieces.

Jet Jaguar felt an emptiness. He could not destroy evil. But, at the same time, he felt hope. For evil had not destroyed good.

Perhaps Jet Jaguar would one day destroy all evil. Or perhaps that task was impossible. But he understood one thing now: It was not his place to decide who would live and who would die for the sake of his ideals.

- Ragnarust Finals