This story was originally written on the 7th of September, 2022. It has been lightly edited and formatted.
Dan Hall was briefly surprised. He had not considered Cristo might move that piece, it looked like an obvious blunder, after all. A sliver of fingernail was slowly being separated from Dan's hand as his eyes quickly glanced about the board, and as he traced the moves out in his head. A small tug and the shard of fingernail was free. Best case scenario, forced mate in 3 moves. Dan sighed and eyed the clock. 2:12 left on his side. Cristo had taken his eyes off the board, and was calmly but curiously looking in Dan's direction. Dan traded a vacant gaze as he worked through it in his head.
It was 12:24, with 2:03 remaining on his clock when Dan pushed his chair backwards, stood up, and headed towards the men's washroom. An arbiter looked on, unsure, but no one raised their voice to stop Dan as he turned a corner, and disappeared into the restroom.
...
It was 07:56, out in the brisk morning air, when Dan had arrived at the house of the notorious chess grandmaster who had never lost a rated tournament game. This man was a legendary up and comer. Young, successful, though not without his allegations. Some claimed he had to cheat. He was too young, and far too consistent to be natural. But time and time again, when put on the board against another GM, strict security, and rigorous review, it was clear. He played like a human, and he played damn well.
Dan had been to his home before, of course, and this afforded him the luxury of knowing exactly how to silently make his way into the GM's garage. Almost unnaturally, he knew he was exactly on time when he heard footsteps above him, and the loud rushing of water, as the undefeated GM began his shower. Dan grabbed the metal bat that was waiting.
Chess wasn't an easy way to make a living for many, but for a lucky few, it afforded a moderate luxury. Though he was young, the GM's bathroom was not cramped. In the far end of the room was a bathtub, on the left wall was a mirror, sink, and large cabinet space for medicine and hygiene products. And in the right wall in the back corner, behind a large glass door, hundreds of drops of water rushed out of a shower head onto the chess mini-celebrity's body.
Dan stepped into the warm bathroom air. This wasn't his first time. As he approached the back of the room, the undefeated GM was washing shampoo out of his hair. Evidently, Dan had showed up a bit too late, as the man finished his task and turned around, locking eyes with Dan. Time offered one beat to catch up for both men. Dan's gaze was piercing and cold. The man looked at him with knowing fear, but did not scream. Panic wasn't his style, of course. He was analytical, quick, and quite often, he was prepared. Be it paranoid consideration or quick thinking, it didn't take the man any time to know what he had to do. There was no defense, no bargaining, his only shot was to take Dan on at a massive disadvantage if he wanted to live.
It was 08:03 when the naked man burst from the shower's entrance and jumped at Dan. His eagerness was rewarded with multiple pounds of aluminum 5 inches from the left side of his head. There was a vile crack as the bat connected with the wet man's wrist. He would never lift a pawn with that arm again. A sacrifice the man knew necessary, as he swung his right arm into Dan's jaw. Dan staggered back and threw out a blind kick. Knowingly, the naked GM had stayed back for a moment before approaching again. Dan's left hand felt the counter behind him and he steadied himself, just in time to see the man approach. In the GM's brain, this was but another board position. He saw his moves planned out, and was about to reach his win condition. If he could grab Dan's head, he could leverage all his body into slamming it directly into the protruding faucet behind him.
Dan was fractions of a second away from this fate when luck struck. The, until today, undefeated GM's foot slipped on the floor, and he lost his balance. Dan saw his opening, and swept out the man's feet with his own. As his head bounced unnaturally against the tile, the man knew it was today that he would be finally defeated. A final blow to the head, a final sickening crack, and the undefeated grandmaster was no more.
It was 08:05 when Dan sat down on his toilet and held his hand against his jaw. After a brief forever, he finally looked down at his own dead body. He'd seen himself dead before. It was an anachronistic suicide he'd committed dozens of times. Of the two of them, the living Dan was certainly going to play better. He had yesterday's game against Cristo today at noon. This time, he was going to win.
...
It was 19:12 when Dan released the bag of frozen peas from his face and set them on his night table. He was reading, and needed a break to go to the bathroom. He had had a full and busy day, both Cristo and himself had put up a good fight, and he was exhausted. It was then, his hand an inch from the bathroom door, that he realized something peculiar. He had left the weapon in the hallway this morning, and yet to the left of the doorway, there was no bat.
This wasn't right. He didn't have any games coming up, why would he have chosen today to come back? But it was undeniable, the bat wasn't there, and chess grandmaster Dan Hall was waiting behind that door to decommission him and take his place. Luckily, Dan was was wearing socks, and hadn't made any noise up to this point. He quickly shuffled to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. More was peculiar than just the time, why would he have chosen the bat again? He'd have to figure that out later, he quickly made his way back to the door, braced himself, and threw it open.
It was 19:15 when Dan was proven right, on the other side of the door, an aluminum bat swung down to the place a normal person would have been, entering the bathroom. The man wielding the bat was none other than Dan Hall himself. Hall's surprise was short lived, as Dan drove his knife directly into the body of his future self's stomach. The man dropped the bat, and was quickly pushed over and finished off with the day's second blow to the head.
The scuffle was brief. Despite this, Dan found himself wishing he had lost. Never before had this happened, the past Dan besting himself. What worried him more was the circumstances. His gaze returned to the body on the floor. It was definitely him. He wasn't notably older, or injured. Save for the pair of expected blemishes. He checked the body's pockets and found everything he expected. His wallet was missing 8 dollars, but the remaining bills had the same serial numbers as his current ones. The body wasn't more than a couple days older than he was, yet it displayed the most uncharacteristic sloppiness Dan had ever seen. Even his first kill, as naive and overplanned as it was years ago, was tighter than this, and he had committed 80 since he got his hands on that lucky watch. What was going to happen in a couple days that would cause him to rush back in time without a plan and lose what was normally an unfair fight? Dan left his bathroom without answers.
It was 20:45, one week later, when Dan Hall stared at the ceiling of his room. He never got an answer.