Chapter 14 – Moscow

Time skip to November 1984

[3rd POV]

As a brisk wind swept through the snow-covered streets of Moscow, a plane touched down at Sheremetyevo International Airport. The arrival of the aircraft signaled the beginning of an event that had captured the attention of the world – The World Chess Championship.

Apollo's comments had been played repeatedly in America, and even spread to Europe. In the height of the Cold War, many cheered for his victory. The president himself made a short address regarding this momentous occasion.

Meanwhile in the USSR, people were not happy. All they saw was a cocky American thinking they could beat them at their own game. In the Kremlin the politburo was having a meeting regarding this event. This chess match was the most significant since Fischer vs. Spassky.

The meeting was led by Konstantin Chernenko, the General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. Facing health issues, he was a notably weak leader. This made it hard for the USSR to tackle its many problems, including a stagnating economy, political tensions with the West, and internal dissent. Many in the Kremlin intended to use a victory in this chess match to distract the public over these issues.

"Comrades, the upcoming World Championship will make or break our union. The future of the Soviet way of life depends on it. Solomentsev, did you complete your task?"

Mikhail Solomentsev, Secretary of the CPSU Central Committee responsible for construction and energy, adjusted his jacket before standing, "Yes, communal televisions have been set up in all cities and villages. The entire union will be watching the event."

Boris Ponomarev, Secretary of the CPSU Central Committee responsible for international relations then spoke, "I have spoken with all the members of the Warsaw Pact. They have agreed to televise the match on their public channels. Other nations have agreed as well, along with sending reporters."

Chernenko nodded. "Grishin, Ustinov, how are your preparations?"

Viktor Grishin, Secretary of the CPSU Central Committee responsible for ideological matters, responded first, "We have prepared a poison we will put in Apollo's food. He should feel mildly ill by the time the third match begins, and he will be severely ill by the sixth match."

Dmitry Ustinov, Minister of Defense puffed up his chest and spoke next, "the military preparations have been made. We will be able to display our full military force while the cameras are rolling."

"Excellent," Chernenko smiled. "That will be all. With this victory, we will send a message to the world that the Soviet Union still stands tall! Dismissed."

As the members of the Politburo filed out the room, Mikhail Gorbachev, the Secretary of the CPSU Central Committee responsible for agriculture, stayed behind along with Chernenko.

"Are you sure about this?" Gorbachev asked. "What if we lose?"

Chernenko's smile widened. "We won't. Our secret weapon won't fail us."

.

[Main POV]

As I stepped out to the tarmac, I was flanked by a team of 6 stern-looking secret service agents. Dressed in black suits, they formed a protective circle around me, their watchful eyes scanning the surroundings for any potential threats. The tension in the air was palpable, a reflection of the political climate between the United States and the Soviet Union during the height of the Cold War.

With me was Emily. She was a 16 year old with blonde hair, tan skin, and no longer had a pendent of a cross around her neck.

Emily was recruited, mainly for her critical thinking skills. She was the smartest girl in the orphanage and was currently excelling at programming with Helios. Last week, I recruited her as a cult member, which she accepted enthusiastically.

Within an hour, I knew I could trust her. Why? She was a fanatic.

As we were being driven to our hotel, we saw many people along the way. Mostly crowds of people booing and heckling at our car. When we got to our hotel, the secret service ushered us into our room before reminding us that our room was probably bugged, and to not discuss anything important.

The room itself was pretty nice. Silky sheets, a great view, what more could someone need?

Emily opened her handbag and brought out a notebook.

"My lord, it appears that your match against the current champion –"

"Anatoly Karpov, yes I know, just tell me that rules of the match."

Flipping through a few pages, she continues, "There will be 1 match a day. A maximum of 3 hours per player per match. A win awards 1 point, and a tie results in 0.5 points each. The first player to 6 points wins. In the result of a tie, games will continue continuously until someone wins."

I nodded. Seemed straight forward. But why did I feel the hairs on my body stand?

"Anyway, let's get some sleep. The match starts tomorrow at 10:00."

Although Emily tried, we slept in separate beds.

.

The next day, we had breakfast. Just before we ate, I saw a brief vision of the secret service agents puking sick.

"So, they poisoned our food, huh." I muttered.

"So, you are he."

I looked up, seeing Anatoly Karpov.

"You are Apollo, the American Champion."

"I am."

The breakfast continued in silence. Emily wasn't a social butterfly, I didn't feel like talking, and the secret service agents didn't say anything. I noticed Karpov didn't eat anything.

Eventually, it was time for the match, so I got up, said goodbye to Emily, and walked towards the designated room, which was a big old ballroom set up for the event. Inside, there were cameras everywhere that flashed as I walked in. I confidently strolled up onto the stage and took my designated seat (which was indicated by an American flag).

Shortly after, Karpov entered the room. But he didn't walk up onto the stage. He took a seat in the crowd of observers filled with Soviet officials and reporters.

Checking the clock, there was only 2 minutes until the match officially started.

So, I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

2.5 hours passed by, and my opponent still hadn't shown up. He only had 30 minutes left on their clock. I was taking a nap.

As I was having a particularly good dream, I was woken up by the cameras clicking and flashing. I turned to look at the person who had just entered and my heart stopped.

Standing in the doorway was my nemesis. Red hair, silver eyes. Just a touch shorter than me and walking with all the confidence and grace in the world.

I composed myself mentally and extended my arm for a handshake. I couldn't crack in front of the cameras.

"You're finally here." I noted.

Once she held my hand, with unusual strength, she pulled me in for a hug.

"Good to see you, brother."