The two grandmasters sat down, the chessboard between them, dozens of cameras broadcasting this final game out to millions.
They'd played a few dozen times now, every game different, and yet always ending in an agreed upon draw. This was the last game ever, no time limit, there had to be a winner.
Skiratov was a master of white, Naismith a God with the black. So no wonder they just stared at the board for minutes, clearly thinking ahead so many moves.
Until Skiratov resigned without a single move actually played.
As they shook hands, elsewhere, Skiratov's wife was released.
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