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Walking into the arena all eyes are on you.
The show has already started, but you're not here to wrestle.
You're not here for much.
You have no bags. No coat.
Just you.
You look like a million bucks, dressed in high-end labels, every little detail of your look perfect.
That was your one requirement for tonight. Not to be anything less than perfect.
That's what he wanted, what he deserves.
He told you that you deserve to shine along side him for all the work you've done.
You check your pocket, making sure the brass knuckles are still there.
Those are important.
"Regal! It's nice to see you again. It's been a while." Dax walks over, slight smile on his face.
He's the only one in the cafeteria who looks any kind of happy to see you.
"Nice to see you too, Ring Of Honor going well for you and Cash?" Dax nods.
"Oh yeah, there's been so much going on I couldn't fill you in if I tried." He chuckles.
You smile.
You've missed him. Him and all your former allies.
Not that you imagine many of them will be your allies now.
"We'll have time to catch up again soon enough. You'll be seeing me around more often." Dax pulls you in for a quick hug.
"Good, see you round." The two of you head in opposite directions.
You linger in a hall by the gorilla for some time.
You don't want to deal with the team in there until you have to go out. So you don't.
Standing and waiting is boring, but you have your phone at least.
You check through twitter, even deciding to tweet a vague couple of sentences hinting that you'll be out tonight.
As the likes start to pour in, you hear your name.
"He's going out now. We suggest you get ready for your cue." With a nod, you follow the tech, listening to the crowds reaction to their champion going down to the ring.
It's been a few weeks.
You have so missed this place.
You listen to his promo, words insulting, precise. Smooth like butter.
You'd expect nothing less, behind closed doors you've gotten to know the man well.
No one knows, of course.
The two of you have kept things just between the two of you.
But tonight, everyone else finds out.
Including your father.
Your dad has always built you up the best he could. Taught you the ways of the wrestling world.
He's the reason you're here.
He's the reason you've never had anyone.
Because no one was ever good enough for the golden child of William Regal.
You've worked for your father your entire professional career.
You've managed wrestlers under his guidance.
Done all he's said for years.
Now you've out-grown him. And it's time for you to break free.
It's been a long time coming.
Your plans have been in motion for a while.
All it took was a little time to get him to fall for your plan.
You're signaled to get ready, so you walk up the stairs and stand behind the curtain, watching the events in the ring from a small monitor.
"Oh, wait wait wait, wait, wait! Mr. Regal, I almost forgot. Guys, I have a microphone. I know it's real confusing, please, pipe down."
The crowd boos.
"I wanted to say, without-" he checks his pocket but finds nothing. "Oh, one second. I must have forgotten them last night, I was a little distracted I must have left them with- Wait, actually.. bring them out!"
That's your cue.
Your music hits.
The curtain is pulled.
Out you walk.
The crowd cheers, mostly. Some people don't seem to know how to react to you.
Your father doesn't seem to know how to react, watching as you walk to the ring filled with all manner of confidence.
You climb the stairs and go through the ropes unassisted, careful not to ruin the look.
Your dad says nothing to you, simply watching as you walk to stand beside the AEW champion.
You pull the brass knuckles from your pocket, MJF reaching out and taking a hold of your hand.
He leaves a surprisingly delicate kiss on your knuckles before sliding the weapon from your palm
"As I was saying, without these and without you none of this is possible. I mean, you did so much. You raised such a good companion for the world champion." You smirk, it's not like Max is wrong.
"They might have booed you when you came out here, but hey, they respect you. Everyone in this business respects you, because-" as MJF talks he walks.
You take a few steps backwards, before turning and carefully picking up the new title belt.
You take a second to admire it before looking back up, right as your father takes brass knuckles to the head.
He collapses to the mat, laying there lifeless.
Max crouches beside him.
"It's funny. You said I have much to learn and you're the one who made a deal with the devil. Not only do I have triple B, but I have a Regal who isn't going to betray me."
Max looks up at you, gaze hard.
It's a warning to you, but you knew what you were getting into when you started this.
When you convinced your father to betray Mox, when you first committed yourself to Max.
You knew the price you would pay for failure or backstabbing.
MJF turns his attention back to your father.
"Allow me to leave you with the same words you left me seven long years ago. Will, the game has changed. MJF exclusively hires top talent or top world class athletes. When you're one of them, send me your stuff. Yours sincerely, the champion, Maxwell Jacob Friedman."
With that the burberry clad man drops the mic, standing and walking over to you.
He looks at your face, then down at his title belt that you have in your hands.
He places his hands on your waist before kissing you, it's rough and passionate, but short lived.
"You're the reason I'm here right now. Not your stupid father. You. You helped me get this beautiful belt, and I'm going to give you the world for that." He smirks, placing a kiss to your cheek before taking the belt from your hands gently.
Max throws the belt over his shoulder, the two of you exiting the ring.
He holds your hand as the two of you make your way through the crowd, not once stopping to look back at the ring.
He's the champion, the AEW champion.
Your champion.
And that is how it is going to stay for the foreseeable future.