Two Mercs: Part Six

The sixteen combatants were escorted to their starting places as Dave and Lucas stepped up to the pulpits. The teams were made distinguishable through the use of coloured bands around the neck, upper arms and thighs while the different pieces were identifiable by the weaponry they wielded. When both players nodded at him Vic moved to the middle of the chessboard, a microphone in hand.
"Ladies, gentlemen, and those watching everywhere else. I have such a match for you tonight! It is not the match we advertised but better!" Vic hurried from the board, turning until he found a camera to smile at. "Let the chess begin!"

Having won the coin toss, controlling the white team, Dave had the first move. Surveying the board from his raised position he focused on the sole woman in the row of pawns.
"Pawn 6, two steps forward."
Clutching her shortsword the woman followed Dave's instructions, baring her teeth at the enemy pawns in challenge.
"Pawn 5, same order."
A male pawn, looking like someone from an up-city perfume advert, confidently swaggered forward and took the tile just diagonally from the one occupied by Dave's pawn.

Pausing Dave considered the board again. His pawn was more than likely dead unless he moved her forward but she would just die next turn. Looking at his other pieces he decided to throw caution to the wind.
"Pawn 6, attack Black pawn 5."
The woman determinedly moved towards her male opponent and he laughed, bringing up his own short-sword with one hand and cupping his crotch with the other.
"Which do you want to be impaled with?"
She didn't bother with a reply, taking two quick steps and lancing out with her short-sword. The male used a slight swing to deflect her blade with his own, moving inside her reach and bringing his shortsword round to thrust it into her stomach, bisecting her navel with a perfectly aimed strike. With a scream the woman pulled herself back, watching the crimson blade emerge from her torso, and she helplessly cast her gaze around as she dropped to her knees, the pain overwhelming the combat drugs in her system.
"Finish her Pawn 5. Then take one step forward."
The man grinned and swiftly decapitated the dying woman, grabbing her head before it fell from her shoulders and holding it aloft in triumph. Tossing the head back towards Lucas the pawn walked out of the growing pool of blood and hefted his sword as he claimed the designated tile.

The female pawn's death set the tone for the rest of the match, collections of heads accumulating in front of both Dave and Lucas. The slaughter of Lucas' female pawns had also been made into spectacles when they happened, drawn out for the entertainment of those watching. Glancing quickly at his pieces after several turns Dave grinned to himself as he issued his latest order.
"Bishop 1, advance two tiles."
The selected piece, her mace head already covered in the blood and brains of defeated opponents, moved, a cruel grin appearing on her face as she neared the rook occupying her target location. The rook hefted his large shield, almost hiding behind it, and circled away from the bishop, ignoring the jeers coming from the crowd. The bishop rained a series of vicious blows downed on the shield, warping the metal into near uselessness, and she grinned as the loud snapping of bone echoed around the arena.
"Yield."
The crippled rook's voice was quiet and was ignored, a final strike of the bishop's mace punching a deep crater into his chest and pulping his heart.
"That's check, Lucas."
The gangster glared across the chessboard at Dave before looking at his remaining pieces. He'd been going for blunt force attrition, forgoing strategy of any kind, and it had cost him dearly. Possessing only his knights and royal couple, as well as a couple of isolated pawns, he faced nearly all of Dave's back row units. Growling in frustration at how the match was going Lucas glanced at the statuesque woman serving as his queen.
"Kill that bishop."
The queen prowled forward, a sceptre and slim dagger in her hands, and the bishop rose warily, clearing the new blood from her mace with a flick of the wrist. There was a clash of metals as the queen batted aside the bishop's mace and the bishop cried out as the dagger was thrust forward to lance into her throat. Gagging on her own blood the bishop slipped down to her knees and the queen used her sceptre to crack the dying woman's skull, stepping over the corpse with an imperious stride.

The endgame of the match happened soon after the Black queen killed the bishop. Although that broke the check it had put Lucas' queen at risk from at least three different pieces.
"Knight 2. Take down the queen."
One of the White knights moved, spinning the spear in his hands as expertly as any ancient warrior, and the queen turned to watch him, bringing up her weapons in preparation. It was futile though, the knight using the longer reach of his spear to poke and prod the woman. With blood streaming from a dozen wounds she was finally too slow to properly block a strike, hissing in pain as the spear pierced the flatness of her belly. The dagger fell from her grip when the knight withdrew the spear and he grabbed it before slowly sliding the blade into the wound and then savagely wrenching it upwards. The queen fell, sprawled out on her back, and groaned in agony as she was again pierced by the spear, trying to curl up around the point of penetration. Her death was symbolic, all of Dave's units now primed to make an attack on Lucas' king, and the gangster desperately looked for a way to salvage the game, eventually deciding to move the king one tile to the left.

Dave took full advantage of his dominance over the board, hurling all caution to the wind and launching his own blunt force offensive. Both Black pawns were hunted and killed, as were the knights, and in a handful of turns the Black king was surrounded. It was the White queen that won the match, rushing in as soon as Dave gave the order. The great-sword that the kings were armed with were heavy and slow in spite of their fearsome power and the queen nimbly dodged the attacks made. Lashing out with her dagger the queen laughed as the blade cut through the muscles in the king's left leg, forcing him to one knee, and moved to stand behind him before slicing open his throat. The Black king slowly toppled forward, the great-sword slipping from his grasp to clatter against the tiles, and the six surviving combatants released their own weapons when it dawned on them that they had won.