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A few disclaimers before this one sets off: This Chapter is off season to when it's based, but on a storyline basis this fits rather well. It is also based on a true story I faced a couple years ago while I was enjoying Christmas break, and from there became a huge breakthrough in my career. I acknowledge that this story is still very much fiction, and various parts of the story do not reflect what really happened in life. (i.e. I haven't ever defeated a chess Grandmaster up to this point yet. But I have gotten rather close on a couple occasions.) Also all characters in this story is property of their respective owners and shall remain that way. My continuing thanks for their continuing participation. Also any characters in this story cannot be used by anyone else without permission from the character's owner.

And now from the Legal authority of Ryan Lewis (which is small yet serious at times): Various chapters in this series contain very adult erotic material of the homosexual nature. Therefore a very high tolerance and acceptance level is needed to read this material. If you are not into homosexual acts please do not read any further. If you are under the legal adult age to view this material (i.e. 18-21, whatever the restriction is in your community) then please click the exit button on your window. If you are underage and caught reading this, I will deny any knowledge of you. For the rest of you who are still here I hope you will continue to enjoy my series, the next semester shall be up soon.

***

The snow was falling hard. Harder than it ever had been in the mid-southwest United States. Anytime it snowed here, it barely got an inch or two before it melted away. Yet now, it was coming down harder than ever, and had piled up neatly up to about three feet.

‘This is even worse than Salt Lake City,' I thought in relation to the city, our state's capital. Most of my friends this holiday season have been gone to their long distance families, or spending vacation somewhere fun like Disneyland. Morrell had his schedule split down the middle. He would spend roughly half the time with his jock buddies who accept him being gay, and with his family. The other half of the time he spent with me.

Despite that amount of time, there was absolutely nothing to do at my home. Although I frequently kept my mom company, Christmas was always quiet between the two of us, and video games could only keep me entertained for so long. No what I have been spending my time on is chess. And since the beginning of the school year, I've returned to taking instructions from one of the chess teachers at the chess center.

His name is Russell Black, he's a very tall, slightly plump wolf who had a love for art, and the ego of a person who was constantly angry. He usually wore a pair of sweats, usually a boring color like gray, which was usually a little lighter than his fur. He also sported on glasses, which weren't too big, so they easily fit in front of his eyes while not being too awkward. He didn't have a title like me, but if I had to give his skills a comparison, it would be the equivalent of an International Master, which was just one rank below Grandmaster. Most times we have been able to get along very well, although we do constantly butt heads. But that never really poised a problem.

Today was December 22nd, the day after the Winter Solstice, and about a week since Russell's return. I was walking to the chess center as I heard the news from Dr. Martin that Russell had returned. Russell had gone down to South America to pursue some art interests during this last semester. I didn't go to see him to get a look at his newly created art collection more as I thought it was in Russell's interest to continue my learning under him.

Russell wasn't my first teacher though, but he took over after my first teacher had passed away. In fact there was a tournament right on Christmas Eve that was going to be dedicated to his Memorial. It'll be the 4th annual tournament that we've had. When I finally got to the center I was nearly numb all the way to the last toe. We at St. George weren't particularly prepared for this kind of weather and therefore my lack of thinking costed me comfort on the walk.

"Ryan Lewis," I heard Russell say as I hung up my coat to dry from the snow, "been studying your endgame have you?"

"I might have," I said not even looking at him yet. I took another quick look around the inside of the chess center. It was a large room filled with tables loaded with chessboards. The walls were outlined with paintings that depicted the story of Saint George the Dragonslayer. That was the trademark that inspired our own city chess team's name. The St. George Dragonslayers, I have to say whoever came up with it had done a pretty good job with creativity.

"There's your teen wit again," he said, "lets see how you are on the chessboard. I think you've gotten soft." I turned to face him and took a seat right on the opposite side. He was exactly as I remember him. Still wearing sweats, sporting on his glasses, and had a stack of various book materials that he uses for his chess instruction.

"Quiz me," I said, confidently playing my queen pawn forward twice.

"I hope you've been studying the Colley," Russell said, "when timed right it is the perfect opening."

"Remember the score from the last tournament I played that?" I rebuttled, "I lost every game I played as white."

"That doesn't mean the Colley is flawed," he said, "you have to time it right."

"Pawn pushing b6 counters the Colley," I informed him, "plus black can also have good play with the Pirc Defense or the King's Indian Defense."

"That's when you transpose," he said, "do I have to shove this info down your throat or something?"

"Yeah sure it's easy when you do it," I joked.

"Well let me show you how it's done then," Russell said and ran me through a series of moves. All the while my phone buzzed silently, to signal that I had gotten a text message. I opened up the phone from under the table and read the message from Morrell.

‘Hey Cutie, Whatcha up to?' It said, and I replied, tuning out half of Russell's ranting.

‘Oh nothing,' I said, ‘I'm just reuniting with an old teacher, and for once he's starting to get on my nerves.' After sending that message I heard Russell ask me a question in time.

"Now what's the best move in this position?" I looked at it for a second and a half before answering.

"Rook to d1."

"What about the pawn taking on e5?" he asked.

"What about it?" I asked as the phone in my hand buzzed.

"You didn't even consider it," he said. I opened up the phone to check the message.

"I did," I said bluntly.

"You didn't, you're still not considering it, now sit up straight," he gave a small hint of a growl as I did so.

"But I'm right though," I said, "Rook d1 is the best answer."

"That's not the point you're not studying the board," he said, "you're not using SMART."

"It's just a stupid guideline," I said.

"Repeat what SMART stands for," he said and I sighed, as I replied to Morrell's text.

"Safeguard the King.

"Monopilize the Center.

"Attack Opponent's weaknesses.

"Respond to Threats.

"Terminate the Opponent's king." I wasn't counting on Russell seeing me text as I finished up the answer, and he quickly snatched it out of my hand.

"What do we have here?" he mocked, "I don't respect a student who texts in the middle of a lesson. You really changed Ryan, and not for the better." He read Morrell's last message aloud.

"Don't let the mean teach get to you. If something goes wrong, I can give you a little pick me up tonight ;)." He frowned.

"Who the hell is Morrell?" he asked.

"None of your business," I said jumping to snag my phone back, but he quickly jumped out of his seat, and I fumbled, causing pieces to go everywhere. I could tell that he was rummaging through my messages.

"You really have changed," he said with a sigh, "I'm completely appalled that Dr. Martin even lets gays in this facility to begin with. Does he even know?"

"Don't know don't care," I said, "now give me back my phone." After that demand he smirked, and made a quick chuck at the wall, completely obliterating my phone.

"Fuck you Ryan," he said, "No student of mine is this disrespectful, gay, or this stupid. I'm big and you're small, I'm strong and you're weak, and I'm right and you're wrong. Now get the hell out of my classroom fag." He reached for one of his books and gave a quick lunge, connecting the book square against my nose, hard. I quickly grabbed my coat and ran out of their, hoping that he wouldn't chase me.

"We'll see who's right and wrong," I muttered as I ran home in the cold.

***

The next day I had stained a nice wash cloth of my mom's from the blood of my nose, and received a scolding for it. Not to mention I also got a scolding about the phone, even though it was Russell who threw it at the wall. I wasn't worried about my phone, or mom, or even my nose. My obvious beef was with my (ex) teacher. My problem though was I had never defeated anyone at his skill level before, which meant that I needed to spend the day studying. I turned on my computer and opened up every chess training resource I had. I also stacked up every book to read from my small personal library. I was determined not to let this gay hater win.

During this day of the 23rd, I received 3 phone calls on my home phone from various people. The first one was from Dustin.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Hey Ryan it's Dustin," he said.

"Hey Dustin," I said.

"Hey I need to get out of the house tonight," he said, "do you want to get together with me?"

"I'm sorry I can't," I said, "I have to study."

"Study on Christmas break?" he asked.

"There's a chess tournament tomorrow," I said, "and I need to stick it to one particular person."

"Can I come watch?" he asked excitedly.

"Be sure to bring a book or something to ease the boredom," I said, and hung up the phone on him. About ten minutes later I received another phone call from Morrell.

"Ryan are you ok?" he asked.

"Yeah I'm fine," I said, "why?"

"You didn't answer to any of my text messages or voicemails," the orca said, "what happened?"

"Teach happened," I said making a chess move on the computer, "apparently he's another anti gay extremist."

"Son of a bitch," I heard him say away from his phone, and then the sound of his mom yelling in the background, possibly not happy about Morrell's speech.

"So now I'm training to stick it to him at tomorrow's tournament," I said.

"That's rough hun," he said, "you want me to come over there and ease the tension?"

"I can't Morrell sorry," I said, "you can come to the tournament tomorrow to watch if you want." There was a pause for a second.

"Sure," he said, "I'll bring my gameboy or something to keep me busy." Before I hung up I gave a word of advice to him.

"Morrell, your Hawt Bawds magazine doesn't count as a game guide." I heard a loud disappointed sigh before I hung up. I was hoping seriously here that I wouldn't be disturbed for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, that was not the case. About another 20 minutes later I got another call. This time it was from Dr. Martin himself.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Master Lewis," he said, "are you ok? Russell was furious."

"Apparently he doesn't like gay people," I said.

"You're gay?" he asked, "what's wrong with that?"

"Ask that to him, not me," I said.

"Ryan my boy," he said, "just say the word and I'll disqualify him from the tournament tomorrow. I'll even make opts as tournament director to ban his USCF membership." I thought about it for a second, and then smiled as I gave my answer.

"No," I said bluntly, "if you DQ him, you'll remove any hope I have in showing him the light. The only way he'll respect me is if I can prove I'm better than him, and this is the only way to do it. Keep him in, and make sure we play each other in the final round." Dr. Martin gave a sigh.

"If you insist Ryan," he said, "I just hope you know what you are doing."

"Trust me Dr.," I said, "I've been in tough situations like this before."

"Well I guess that's true," he said, "very well, best of luck to you my boy." I hung up on him and gave the phone to my mom in the other room.

"Mom, if anyone else tries to call me today, tell them I'm in bed with a terminal illness, and to stay 20 miles away at least," I told her. She gave me a dumb stare as I shut the door to my room, and locked it behind me.

***

Morrell and Dustin were walking together to the tournament site, which happened to be the chess center itself this time. They each had brought a book, although Morrell had pulled a sneaky trick, by posting copies of his favorite models in certain pages of the book, as if to hide it. The books unfortunately were not the main subject of the conversation.

"Do you think Ryan's going to win?" Dustin asked.

"Without a doubt." He said.

"How can you be so sure?" Dustin asked again, "isn't this guy supposed to be like almost a Grandmaster or whatever it is?"

"Give Ryan a little more credit than the subject is worth Dustin," The orca said as they walked up the ramp, "Ryan has a strong heart and an unbreakable spirit. He believes he will win strong enough, and so to help him I believe in him, and what he's trying to accomplish."

"That's all?" Dustin asked confused, "he believes, and works into his beliefs?" Morrell faced him and smiled at the top of the ramp.

"Dustin," he began, "you're new to the circle of friends here still. I'm going to tell you something that I was told by the Lucian brothers the first time my relationship with Ryan was having troubles."

"What's that?" Dustin asked.

"If you believe something strongly enough," the orca phrased, "it will happen." They didn't say anything else, but just smiled at each other, before quickly walking inside. Morrell checked his watch, it was 8:50 AM, ten minutes before tournament starts. They looked around the inside of the chess center, which was nearly full of unknown furs from different places around the world to compete. But there was still no sign of Ryan.

"Where is he?" Dustin asked. Dr. Martin whistled the room quiet.

"First off," he began, "I'd like to thank you all for coming to the 4th Annual Igor Ivanov memorial tournament. I'd like to first acknowledge the reason why this tournament is held. It is to honor a beloved member of the chess community here, who had unfortunately died of cancer. Now, the pairings shall commence soon, I hope everyone is here?"

"I bet that fag is a no show," a wolf from the corner said. Morrell looked at him and saw that he was the teacher Ryan had mentioned the day before. The orca felt a very quick rush of anger overflow him, which was broken instantly by a voice.

"Guess again," everyone turned and saw a certain human, garbed all in black. He was wearing a shirt that held a diagram chess board and large words ‘What Would Igor Do?' on the front. It was Ryan.

***

I had walked in bright and early, with a confident smile on my face. I was smart enough to balance out 13 hours of chess cramming with eight hours of sleep and a nice balance breakfast. I was fueled enough to take on the fire. I came in wearing the preferred shirt for the occasion, a shirt that was dedicated to my first teacher, Igor Ivanov. I was also in my favorite color scheme, all black, which fit well into a nice theme. Morrell and Dustin were already there, each carrying a book, and I knew something was wrong with Morrell's situation. He doesn't like to read and yet he was carrying a copy of Michelangelo's "The Agony and The Ecstasy". Not even I bothered reading that book.

‘He's hiding naughty pics in there,' I thought, ‘I just know it. Okay Ryan concentrate, time to get your game face on.' I didn't know most of the players there, except for the high profile grandmasters, which were performing in their own little division. I checked my watch and found I was right in time. I pulled out my pencil and score sheets as Dr. Martin posted the pairings for the first round. I was seated near the very back corner, while I saw that Russell was moved to the near front, competing high on the seed. I figured my opponent wasn't very strong, but decided not to underestimate him just in case. After everyone was seated and ready, Dr. Martin made a quick announcements.

"Ok this should be an exciting tournament," he said, "Not only are there cash prizes for winners of their division, but there are also special awards to be given out also to certain people, also in the form of cash prizes. Shake your opponent's hand and start the clock." I did as he was ordered and started the clock, I was playing black this time and happened to find my first opponent way too easy. Easy enough that I had him defeated within eleven moves of the opening, due to one major flaw, I forced his king to a center checkmate.

The rest of the rounds were quite quick also. I played as white twice, and then black once more, which meant I would most likely be playing any color in the final round. Russell was also quick to see that his matches were child's play as well. Before we knew it the final pairings came up, and right on the top of our division, was Russell and I.

"I'm white," he said and took his seat. Maybe now I can show him how things work. After another few minutes of anticipation, it was time to begin. Morrell and Dustin both put down their books from their seats, wanting to keep a close watch on our game.

"Now for the final round," Dr. Martin said, "this will be the deciding factor of the prize money winner, as well as give an impressive show of talent between rivals. Such examples are John Donaldson vs. Enrico Sevillano, and Russell Black vs. Ryan Lewis in the Expert section. Please shake your hands and start your clock." I started the clock since I was black and held out my hand for the handshake, just for the sake of his annoyance. Much to my dismay, he just made his first move and hit the clock. I looked at the move, studying it carefully. He was playing the Colley he oh so tried to preach about, and I decided to play into it a little bit. Five moves in, and the game has a slow take off, but is very even on both sides.

I could tell that Russell was staring me down, but I was not willing to give him the satisfaction of meeting his stare. Instead, I concentrated my efforts onto my army before me. Ten moves in, and a couple pieces are exchanged off, but still very evenly matched. Fifteen moves in, I happen to make a mistake and lose my queen to a minor piece. I spend extra minutes on my clock time thinking out a new form of strategy, and form one. It was very tough, but after 20 minutes of suspension, 25 moves in, Russell got careless and I snagged back the queen, bringing us back down to a near even level. From there we continued play into the end game, where it went on for another fifteen moves. From here, I paused to think for another while of the position.

‘He just made a mistake,' I realized in my head, ‘I have the game won in twelve moves.' I looked up at Russell then back down at the board, then up at the crowd who was watching our game. Everyone else's game was done and finished already.

"Hurry up and make a move," Russell said angrily, "I don't have all day." I extended a hand for a handshake.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"I'm offering you a draw," I said.

"A draw?" he mocked, "you got to be kidding."

"You lost," I said, "you just don't know it."

"I lost?" he asked, "look at the board."

"I did," I said still holding out the hand, "take the draw and we'll split the prize money." I saw the growl I was going for with this, and Russell batted my hand away, hard. I brought up my hand and made my move. I followed the sequence to the letter from my head, and sure enough, it led me to a free queen and king vs. lone king end game. Russell was essentially defeated, and he didn't understand why. At least I thought he didn't anyway. He silently tipped his king over and stepped up from his seat, walking out. I sat there thinking for a bit, and decided to follow him.

***

"Russell wait," I shouted. He stopped as he got to the entrance door, "let's talk."

"About what?" he asked, "you shoving your little victory right into my face?"

"Of course not," I said, "look, we both were total jackasses the past three days. I know we've gotten on each other's cases before, but that didn't stop us then. What's stopping us now?" He paused for a second before facing me.

"That orca seems like a nice fit for you I guess," he said, "I have nothing more to teach you. Good luck at the High School State Championships. I hear Tony is one tough cookie this year." He walked out of the door.

***

"Wow Ryan," Morrell said, "2000 Dollars. What are you going to use it for?"

"I'll probably save it for college," I said bluntly.

"First Place Prize, Best Upset Prize, Most Elegant Game," Dustin stated, "which awards didn't you win?" We gave a good small laugh as we crossed the street heading back to my house. We figured a nice little lunch was in order, and even if it was pizza, it was my treat.

As I crossed that street I saw Russell crossing from the opposite side, carrying a sketchbook which was open. I could see the sketch he had currently worked on, and it was me, surrounded in an aura of various chess pieces. I stood looking at him from the side of the street he crossed from. That was the last I ever saw of Russell Black.