ARTHUR TYPICALLY RESTED ON SUNDAYS. It was never a guaranteed day off, as he never did truly find rest and reprieve from his work, but he always slept in two hours past his typical waking time to give himself some sort of reward for living through yet another long week.

Of course, the life of a secretary wasn't too much to brag about, as he often told his neighbors who tended to snoop in on his life, not simply because their flat walls were paper thin. They always wondered why he disappeared for days, even weeks without any say, as well as returning at odd hours looking exhausted and drained, but he'd simply give them a sly smile and wink, which tended to keep them silent.

So, naturally, he had convinced his entire floor that he was some kind of sex fiend. That was always better than the alternative, though there were whispers that he was one of those kinds of boys, the pretty kinds that spent a little too much time with their older bosses. He was a secretary, after all, and everyone knew what women secretaries were like, and they had never seen Arthur with a woman before.

Gossip always had some truth, but that didn't mean he would admit to anything.

He shuddered at the regular thought of his having sexual relations with his boss; that man was older than dirt, but he wouldn't be opposed to shacking it up with his handler, what with his dry humor and habit for holding onto his arm a lot tighter than necessary.

But anyways. He sighed as he sat up from where he was still just staring up at his ceiling, groaning as he pushed himself into a sitting position, looking towards his clock, then over to his side table where his most recent books sat, waiting for him to read them.

He hummed as he debated on whether he wanted to get up and, if he wanted to, whether he should get ready for the day or simply just go eat breakfast in his pants, maybe read for a few, then get ready in the event that he gets called out.

Of course, his neighbors absolutely killed the plan of him just relaxing for the morning, at least. 

"Coming!" he groaned, grabbing his bathrobe and sliding his feet into the slippers he kept right by the edge of the bed, and he took a moment's pause to take in just how old he was acting.

He was twenty-eight years old, yet he acted like his crusty old boss that always frowned whenever he caught him getting a little too close to his handler. So what if Arthur liked to stand between his legs, so long as Walter was okay with it, he didn't see anything wrong.

Well, there were many other people who say many, many things wrong, but that wasn't his problem, considering he was still employed.

Breaking out of his midlife crisis that came much too early in his life, he continued along the way out of his room and into his living room, looking towards his door. He sighed as he caught sight of the mess that was much more incriminating than he would have liked, figuring that he could just move to the hall to speak rather than invite them in.

Steeling himself, he opened his door and stepped swiftly outside, barely registering the faces of the busybodies trying to destroy his ideal Sunday morning, plastering on a smile as he looked at the faces of the various neighbors that surrounded him.

"Morning," he said, because there wasn't much else to say, what with him standing in his robe in the middle of the hall.

"Good morning," his next door neighbor drawled, looking over to the others around them, and Arthur had the strangest feeling that this was some sort of intervention.

"How have you been, Arthur?" one of the neighbors from 3C—he didn't bother learning their names, only their faces and whichever flat they inhabited—asked, in the usual voice she used when it was clear she was about to pry.

"Fine," he replied, adjusting his glasses that he had thrown on haphazardly, despite never needing them to begin with, "How have you been?"

"That's not why we're here, Arthur," one of the two neighbors from 3E said, and he sighed heavily, because he was not above letting them know exactly how he felt about their early morning intrusion.

"Then why are you here?" he demanded, shoving his hands into his pockets, only to find something very oddly shaped within that, if pulled out right then and there, would cause a very intense altercation and possibly his arrest.

So he opted to just hear them out, rocking back and forth on his heels and toes as he listened to his neighbors speak above each other, trying to find the best way to tell him that, if he was, he needed to stop having sexual relations with his boss.

"It just isn't natural," one of his neighbors tried, only to be interrupted by another neighbor.

"It's not that we judge, we just don't think it's smart, considering you work for him and all, and we'd hate for you to lose your job should he get tired of you," the other explained, trying to ease the blow.

"Not that he would, but just in case, that's why HR is there, to prevent this from happening," the neighbor from 3A said, and Arthur knew she worked for HR, which was probably why she said it.

"It's 1994, we're very progressive and accepting, Arthur, but we're just worried about your stability," the neighbor from 3E said, most nodding in agreement save for a couple who merely pursed their lips.

Arthur didn't care what they thought of him either way. He knew exactly what they thought of him, he could hear through their thin walls, especially with the equipment he used at his secretary work, he didn't need to have them say it to his face; or, rather, lie to his face.

"Thank you," he deadpanned, and, because he was the youngest out of all of them, he asked, "Can I leave now?"

The thing about Arthur was he could be the perfect gentleman if he wanted. As a secretary, that was something he had to perfect, what with having to handle very volatile and tense situations with unsavory individuals, and it never worked to be brash and abrasive. As a secretary, he had to think three steps ahead, using all the tools at his disposal, but never relying on them, rather focusing on his own strengths to complete his task.

But while being a secretary required intense patience, it also required a fierceness and firm standing. No secretary ever made it by being easy to push around; unless he wanted to be, of course.

"Arthur, we're serious," the oldest neighbor said, giving him a dark look, "You need to stop."

He hummed shifting. "I thought this was all just a friendly suggestion about what I should be careful of? What are you trying to say?"

He was becoming a little too old for this kind of behavior, but had a little habit of talking down to superiors. Not that these people were his superiors by any means, what with his being a secretary and all.

As all his neighbors scrambled to talk over each other, some more upset than the others trying to defuse the tension, Arthur adjusted his glasses, pausing when he caught sight of a flashing night in the left hand corner.

'MISSION,' it read, flashing red, and his heart jolted; he hardly ever got a red mission, he wasn't that high up in rank yet.

"Well, this has been a wholly unpleasant conversation, but I must be off," he said, adjusting his glasses and bathrobe, "Let's never do this again."

He turned to push his way back into his flat, only for someone to grab his arm, tugging him back, and he struggled not to immediately go into the defensive or do anything that would blow his cover. 

"Where are you going?" she demanded, and he felt a tug at one corner of his lips, feeling much too smug.

"I'm going to C.H.U.R.C.H."

AUTHOR'S NOTE

( 09.23.18 )

So here's the first chapter of Chess Pieces! I'm fairly proud of it, though I wish the dialogue and conversation wasn't so awful, but I really liked the narration, I think it's clever, so I hope you like Arthur, he's kind of a little shit at the moment.

This takes place in 1994 when Everett is 28 (I assume he's 50 in Black Panther), I just wanted ya'll to know that this is the year that I'm gonna be researching for when I do stuff, okay?

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!