Codex - Chess [Iron Man movieverse]

"Uncle Obi, what's this?"  Obadiah Stane looked faintly annoyed as the 4-year-old Stark plopped the chess box on the floor, and proceeded to pry it open, flipping the monochromatic board open and carelessly spilling the pieces out; the set was kept on a high shelf, and the elder man had the strong impression Tony was not supposed to touch it.

"I saw you and Dad just staring at it, and I asked Mom and she said you were playing a game, but it didn't look like a fun game--"

"Then why ask?"  Tony listened with half an ear, curious with the way Obadiah deftly placed the pieces on their squares; he was unaware his uncle was simply working on automatic, his natural reaction when in contact with that certain material.  "You've already made up your mind about it, haven't you?"

"How does it work?"  The kid fairly bounced with the question, yet Obadiah fixated more on the way he phrased it.  He took in Tony's youth, too young to really consciously phrase his words and make them work for him (it was something the elder actually looked forward to teaching him, down the line); so, it was just instinct in the boy: to ask 'how does it work,' rather than 'how do you play.'

Obadiah pointed to each figure, denoting each of their names, fully expecting Tony to remember them: "Castles, Bishops, Knights, King, Queen, Pawns."  He then made the boy recite the names back; he did so perfectly.  Then he explained each of their individual techniques, and again Tony repeated them to his satisfaction, and already Obadiah began anticipating testing whether Tony both understood and could apply them, or if it was simply rote memorization.  Finally he did spell out the goals tying the game together: who your target was, who you protect, who's expendable.

"Ex-pen-da-ble..."  Obadiah shook his head at the baby tongue slowly mouthing the word.  

"It means you can throw them away since they're not worth much.  Take this pawn," and Obadiah fingered one of the white ones dominating the front row, "it's weak, not worth much; you give it up, it won't hurt you."  Obadiah tapped down the entire row, on each pawn.  "This type of chess piece has the most members, because it's skill is the easiest, and that makes it common; there's no demand for it."  Perhaps Tony would be malleable enough for chess to influence him on matters of his and Howard's business.  And not just due to supply-and-demand, skilled workers vs. unskilled workers; he explained to the kid how the game was one of strategy--and that was the only way business operated, though he did not mention that particular bit.

Probably should have expected it, yet Obadiah was still slightly disappointed that he beat the boy in the minutes equivalent to his own young age.

"Tony, you just barreled through," said the older man bluntly (so much for strategy; definitely just rote memorization).

"Um..."  The boy fiddled with his fallen King.  Obadiah gently took the piece from his small hands, and stood it back up in its proper place, as well as all the others.

"You can't rush through it, kiddo; you need to stop and think," he plopped the last figure down with a small reverberating finality.  "You need to come up with a plan."

Chewing his lip, the boy looked up and nodded, Obadiah returning the gesture, which stopped the lip-chewing and started the beaming.  At least five more games before the door opened and Tony dropped everything to meet with Howard and Maria after their night out.  Obadiah followed, leaving the game behind; he'd clean it up later.  He paid half an ear, half a mind on going through the motions: thank you very much for looking after Tony, hope he wasn't too much trouble, no, he was fine, no trouble at all, how was the movie?  The boy nicely broke up the monotony by interjecting with what he and Uncle Obi did with the chess, and dad could we please play together?  Not tonight Tony, it's almost your bedtime; I'm afraid not tomorrow either, meeting all day; but the day after, we can play.  Inwardly, Obadiah was more preoccupied with his assessment of Tony: there was no major improvement in chess with the boy, but he found himself more accepting; Tony was, after all, little more than a toddler.  Still, with the boy's (ominous, thrilling, unbelievable) attempts at a circuit board of all things, expressing--quite frankly--freakish aptitude for the whole endeavor, you'd suppose chess would--but even if the boy were a genius, genius need not apply to everything.

Regardless, Tony had to learn strategy; it could only make him more useful.