Elvis rubs his palms on the legs of his pants as he walks down the hall, all too aware of the men behind him. He remembers them, of course.

The Colonel, growing increasingly paranoid as Elvis's fame grew, hired them to "take care" of things. Elvis knows they're just nameless strong-arms, men to do the Colonel's biding, but he won't allow them to push him around.

Not this time.

One of the men puts a hand out infront of him, stopping him in his tracks.

"He's just through here, Mr. Presley." The man gestures to a side door, dark and almost hidden from view.

Elvis looks from the man to the door, cautious as to what's waiting for him on the other side.

He opens the door, stepping into the room to be met with the Colonel himself sat at a long table.

The room is dark, a bar cart situated in the left corner.

The Colonel sits with a mess of papers infront of him, cigar sticking out of his mouth as he eyes Elvis.

"Ah, there he is! My runaway superstar."

Elvis makes no move to greet him.

The Colonel leans forward, waving a hand.

"Sit down, sit down. We have much to discuss."

Elvis doesn't move.

One of the men takes a step forward, pulling out a chair.

It obviously wasn't a suggestion.

Elvis takes a seat, eyeing the strong-arm as he sits.

"What's this about?"

Elvis's tone is curt.

He wants to get out of here, back to Y/N, back to Graceland.

The Colonel takes a drag from his cigar.

"That little girl you have out there has gotten you into some trouble, my boy." The Colonel taps one of the papers, a clipping from a newspaper. His old, gnarled fingers slide it across the table, and Elvis gets a good look at the headline.

Elvis's New Arm-Charm Linked to Disturbing Past

Elvis's brow furrows.

Another paper lands in front of him.

This time, it's a typed document, all of Elvis's financial fees laid out in front of him.

He picks it up, hands unsteady.

"What the Hell is all a this?"

The Colonel chuckles.

"Only what you owe me. You've wracked up quite a bill over the years, as you can see."

Elvis shook his head, lips parting in disbelief.

He looked back at the news clipping.

"What the hell is this article even about?" He narrows his eyes at the old man. "What kinda lies you been spreading?"

The Colonel only chuckles.

"Everything I found out about your little play thing is from a reliable source. I wouldn't lie to you, my boy."

Elvis scoffs.

"You expect me to believe that?"

The Colonel reaches to tap his cane against the newspaper clipping.

"Her brother, Kerry that's his name, correct?"

Elvis's blood runs cold.

"Well, that brother of hers," the Colonel continues, grunting as he gets to his feet. "Is a homosexual." He spits the word out, as if it leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

"It's ill advised for you to get involved with a woman who has ties to that kind of person."

Elvis doesn't know what to say. He looks at the table blankly, eyes darting to the financial paper.

"If you think I'm just gonna run off and leave Y/N cause you threaten me with some bullshit papers, you've got another thing comin'-"

"These bullshit papers, as you so eloquently call them, have the power to take your entire career away from you." The Colonel's face is red, anger emitting from him in waves.

He leans in close to Elvis, and Elvis has to fight the urge to deck the old man then and there.

"You need me, boy." The Colonel's tone is menacing.

"I have the power to take everything away from you, and if you don't resign me as your promoter, I will ensure that all you are left with is a one room shack and that girl of yours."

A contract is slid infront of him, Elvis's hands shaking as a pen is placed into his hands.

Elvis looks back at the Colonel, and then back at the paper.

His hand shakes as he picks up the pen.