A strange beep coming from my main machine brought me downstairs in a hurry. I didn't like strange beeps, they meant bad things.
Endgame invites you to play a game of chess. Accept of Decline?
What the h...? I don't play chess.
Geniuses are supposed to. That's what Dad always said every time he entered me in another tournament. I wish Ms. Gress hadn't given me that IQ test in grade 8. Who cares if I was bored in class, didn't listen, and generally didn't care? I got good grades, wasn't that supposed to make teachers leave you alone?
Dad decided I was going to be the next Bobby Fischer or something. Except for one minor snag, I don't play chess. Chess isn't challenging, it's pieces of wood on another piece of wood. The only time chess looked vaguely interesting was in Harry Potter, I could get into wizard's chess. Pity it wasn't real. Hogwarts was probably a school I would have enjoyed too... wonder what house I would have be put in?
The beeping from my computer brought me back to the present. What was I going to do about this?
I looked at the message, very simple, nothing jumping out at me to give any sort of clue as to who sent it. No timer either, that was good. I had time to decide what I wanted to do. Or it was a hidden timer...
Any program that managed to make it through my cyber castle was no small bit of code. And where there were large amounts of code, there was a trail.
I smiled wickedly as my fingers danced across the keyboard. With the message still active on my computer there had to be some sort of trail, it was only a matter of finding it. And I would find it.
Endgame, I chuckled, what a name...
To the poser known as Endgame:
This genius doesn't play chess. You want a real game? Let's play poker, that way when I beat you I'll get something more than the satisfaction of kicking your sorry a--. Although you keep this up and that may just be enough to tempt me.
Slytherin, I would have been in Slytherin.