Chess, at its core, is a simple game.
One gameboard, sixty-four squares, and sixteen pieces for a player to control.
Each piece has a unique pattern of movement, all with the goal of putting the opposing king in checkmate.
To bring about the endgame.
The pawns have the simplest task, usually just one step at a time on their journey to promotion.
The rooks and bishops can move as many squares as they wish, so long as they stick to their straight lines and diagonals respectfully.
The knight takes any square not directly along its own rank, file, or diagonal, moving along in an L shape.
The queen? Free to move as she pleases.
Allowed to change tactic between the straight line and diagonal as the mood suits her.
And the king, well…he can move in any direction, but has arguably the hardest choice to make.
He can only move one square at a time, constantly protecting himself if put into check by the opponent.
This restriction of movement puts the king at a distinct disadvantage throughout the game.
Watching his army fall like lambs to the slaughter.
Captured before his very eyes.
It’s the same type of game that plays out inside the Slaughterhouse, especially this time of year.
The pieces have been put in place, and have made their movements clear from the jump.
The pawns, those who have to take things one step at a time, have kept their eyes focused on just trying to make it into the ring.
The rooks and bishops, those with one set path they travel going into this, will do whatever is necessary to survive such a deadly affair.
The knights take the odd movements, still getting the task done as needed.
The queen, oh my sweet queen…she is free to do as she pleases.
Which leaves the king in a tight spot, always one step closer to being eliminated.
All of these pieces have one thing in common, however.
They’re only as good as the player moving them.
The key to winning the game lies within the intellect of the one in control.
And ol’ Simon’s been manipulating this gameboard as he sees fit.
The pawns? Men like The Generation Kid, still trying to wrap their heads around the chaos that takes place inside the Slaughterhouse.
The rooks and bishops? The likes of Rainbow Party and Vayikra, constantly at war with each other but never deviating from their path.
The knights? Jet Set Radio, their erratic actions the perfect shield for what’s to come.
My queen? Sweet, sweet Pyre, she is free to move only as I allow.
Which leaves the king.
The man most in danger as I move toward the endgame.
You’ve moved in whatever direction I deemed necessary, but only one step at a time.
And you’ll reach your final step at Pandemonium.
As the opposing pieces fall one by one, I will achieve my greatest victory yet.
At your expense, Lucas.
Check and mate.