THE BIG QUESTION
Sparing matches started immediately with the leagues founding. It was good training, useful for battle experience, strategy and tactics. Aside from obvious benefits it also improved creativity, intelligence, and reading body language. It always had an air of rivalry, but was never anything but friendly. Some unofficial rules emerged spontaneously to preserve that. Duels were not be analyzed with third parties, nor their outcomes mentioned. Opponents would learn form one another through observation and exchange of tips. Nobody kept records.
But recently someone broke the silent code. Rumors started, top lists were made and remade. Guessing and betting appeared. Jealousy appeared. Rivalry turned not so friendly. Group dynamics were thrown off balance. It could threaten mission success. The Bat traced the rumors to the culprit - Wally. Who else would break the silence but the chatterbox. Superman gave the speedster a lesson. Flash was no longer the quickest tongue of the west. But the ghost was out.
The Founders met, debated, mulled. The Bat came up with a plan. A competition, open for all to participate in and all to observe. The best would be determined once and for all and the subject never again mentioned. The plan was accepted, and details arranged.
Everyone for themselves. No holds bared. No explicit alliances. No whining if you make an implicit one and get backstabbed. No penalties for backstabbers. Beginning one hour after breakfast or hard physical activity: all participants rested, fed, of sound mind and body. Mechanical, chemical and magical enhancements forbidden. No time limit and no pause for anything. Leaving the arena means surrender. No recordings or 'official' commentators. Audience to watch from behind sound proof mirror-glass and freely comment among each other. Betting, with or without money, will be severely punished.
All leaguers accepted the terms. Contenders applied, but most revoked upon seeing those tougher than themselves listed. The top four remained in the end: Bat, Hawkgirl, Lantern and Aquaman.
Someone brought the four-handed chess set. Colors were selected by consensus and preference. Bat took the black, naturally. Aqua took red, the color of royalty. Lantern took yellow and complained on the lack of green. Hawk was left with white; and had no qualms about it. The game began.
The marine favored the little guy, forming a jagged wedge of mutually supporting pawns. The knight predictably used knights, jumpstarting his game, leaping pawns two-places at once to grab territory. The king had no preferences, but moved all his minions in an interlocking net of mutual support, no piece unguarded and some by two others at once. Hawkgirl cleared the way for her bishops and queens, ready to swoop through any crevice in enemy lines.
An hour had past. The Manhunter brought four isotonic drinks for the players to recover fluid and sugar levels, to keep clear heads. Aquaman downed his one desperately, the Bat didn't touch his. Hawkgirl sipped little by little while Lantern took a mouthful every so often.
Eventually the opening was done and the time had come for battle.
Aquaman inched closer, pieces passing one another just so much, his front coming solid like the tide, sweeping everything in path. Lantern castled to pull out the big guns. Paired rooks flashing back and forth, devastating Hawk's infantry. Hawkgirl's elite troops zig-zagged erratically, coming up unexpectedly to pick off unsuspecting pray, going for the record of most pieces taken in one game. The Bat played hectically, his knights jumping in and out of action, pinning and forking enemies, supporting the pawns and having them supported in turn. He foiled more plans than believable, both those set against him and those not. No one could figure what he was doing.
Two hours into the game the Martian arrived again, and the players took their drinks. With two full bottles waiting, it looked as if the Bat was stockpiling. Each bottle he didn't touch he scored him morale points against the sea king. But that only made the man more persistent, more defiant to win. This was getting personal.
Soon the tide had hit the wedge. Massacre ensued, pieces falling like flies. Hawkgril saw her chance and took it, like vultures feasting on the leftovers, taking out figures left alone after battle. The bat changed gears and plunged his bishops into Hawkgirl's army, left exposed after marine bombardment. Before her own retuned home he had her check-mated.
One down, two to go.
As if by agreement the knight and the king attacked Lantern simultaneously, soon scoring a cooperative check-mate. Now it was time for the big duel.
With the board nearly empty, Aquaman took his king from the fort, backing what was left of his forces. The Bat did the same. They danced around, neither willing to go first. Eventually the Bat pulled an ambush and forced an exchange of queens. Only the pawns and kings remained. But he had fallen for a trap within a trap. Aqua moved his king into a suicidal double stale-mate. Whoever moved first looses. And it was Bat's turn to move. But he didn't. Aquaman frowned at him.
„There's no time limit. " The Bat replied coldly.
The other two had to agree.
The king scowled. „You're delaying the inevitable. "
The Bat did not reply. The knight and the king stared at each other for a very, very long time. Hawkgirl and Lantern fetched Oreos, reading material and generally wasted time. As long as they kept quiet no one minded. Aquaman licked his lips. The Manhunter took it as a cue and brought more drinks. The Bat's bottle joined its predecessors. Another prick at Aquaman's fraying nerves.
The knight folded his arms in his lap and stared blank-face into the chessboard, meditating in the middle of the game. The king groaned.
„I'm not going anywhere. " The dark knight reminded of the rules again.
„Neither am I. " The sea king ground through his teeth.
Half an hour passed in Hawk's and Lantern's half-flirtatious chatter, totally untreated to the game. Some spectators left of boredom, others set up camp, eager to see where this was going; still others came and went between chores. Aquaman swallowed. The Bat took note.
„Serve yourselves. " The Bat tipped his head at his bottles, his voice just slightly teasing.
Hawk and Lantern took one each. Aqua accepted also but still scowled.
Yet more time passed. Aquaman was starting to sweat, clench his fists. Hawk and Lantern shared curious looks. The Bat just sat. Soon the entire league gathered to see what was happening.
Totally unroyaly the sea king threw the board in rage and strung a line of juiciest maritime swears as he stomped away, slamming the toilet doors shut.
Fifty leaguers stared slack-jawed. The Dark Knight smirked.
The End