Christian Wheeler, a 25-year old with a lost fandom

“Another long night of work, it seems…”

It was dark. Scratch that, it was almost pitch black. The sun had long since gone down, making way for the moon in the wee hours of the morning. In exchange, the glare of three different screens provided all the light that Christian could need, reflecting off of his pale skin. Brown eyes that are partially hidden behind scraggly hair of roughly the same color scan across the multi-monitor setup, whilst fingers dance across the keyboard and mouse in front of him.

This particular client was being a real hassle, constantly bombarding him with messages. Requests to edit out the sound of a pet, or some background noise, or to edit around an awkward pause that had ‘accidentally’ been taken mid-read off of the subpar script they used. And all for what? A video essay about some indie game that he had never even heard of? Christian barely had enough time for his editing work as is, let alone time to play games.

The last few days had been hell for Christian Wheeler. Or rather, the last few weeks. Local TV is always in need of extra hands, and if they’re going to keep paying him, then why not work overtime? Same thing goes for the constant influx of clientele, all of whom are in ‘**** need’ of some professional editing work. After all, why go and pay seventy dollars a month for a complete suite of tools that includes video and audio editing software, as well as tutorials on how to utilize them yourself, when you can just pay someone else a one-time fee to do it for you?

That’s the sort of mindset that has led Christian here, being kept awake at half past two in the morning, slaving away at his computer, looking for just a little bit more to add to his burgeoning nest egg. Of course, Christian could always just stop doing this freelance work, and worry about other aspects of his life, but why should he bother? After all, the last time he tried pursuing something other than his ongoing career…

“I’m sorry, kid, but you just don’t have what it takes. You’d just be wasting your time, at this point.”

That was the response he was given. The one that had killed what was so much more than a childhood dream for him. To Christian, being a wrestler was more than a dream. It was his personality, his livelihood. He ate, slept, and breathed pro wrestling, to the point of having almost nothing else in his life to serve as a ‘distraction’.

Before his trainer had said that, things were so much clearer for Christian. Every day, he got up, went down to the LoMonaco Wrestling Academy, and he trained. For hours on end, without any breaks. He never took a day off, never took a back step. He just kept pushing onward, striving towards his one, single-minded goal. His one and only dream in life, the same one he had since as early as his formative memories. To become a pro wrestler, and work within the industry that practically raised him during childhood.

To him, college didn’t matter. The military didn’t matter. He didn’t even care about meeting other people, unless they were fellow fans of the sport he grew up with. He wanted something else, something that felt more real. He wanted a legacy, and he wanted to forge it inside of that squared circle.

But then, a year into his training, things started falling apart. He had seen signs of the business being tough on those around him. The way that some of his classmates were dropping like flies, especially when compared to the number of people who started their careers right alongside him. The constant injuries people suffered, and how it negatively impacted a person’s psyche. The way his coaches ripped into him whenever he did anything wrong during training, no matter how minor of a mistake it actually was. The way that the students who did stick around all treated him like less of a person and more like a rival, more like direct competition. Of course, despite this, Christian didn’t mind it. He helped people get through their problems, helped them overcome their injuries, tried his best to help his supposed ‘rivals’ become better. Most importantly to him, though? He took everything his coaches said as gospel, incorporating it all into what he believed would make him the best possible competitor inside those ropes, and out of it.

So when the head trainer told him he didn’t have what it takes for this industry? That wasn’t just some wake-up call; It was a resounding **** knell. The deadman’s scythe carved right through his passion. Those eleven words were all it took to send him into a spiral - one he wouldn’t recover from for almost the entirety of the next nine months.

Over that nine month period, Christian would cut himself off from the wrestling industry entirely, practically dropping off the face of the earth in the process. He deleted almost every social media account that he owned, and cut ties with almost the entirety of his friend group, seeing as how most of them were only bound by a common interest; One that was, in all reality, no longer actually that common between them.

It was only after that period that Christian got his life back in order. He blitzed his way through college, throwing himself entirely into his studies and ignoring all possibilities for socializing in the process. He graduated, and then immediately launched himself into the workforce, signing on with Chestnut TV and focusing near-exclusively on performing his duties as a cameraman for the studio. And then, when that proved to be not enough, he picked up freelance editing. All of that leads him to right now, in this very moment. Alone at twenty five years old, nearly wide awake at almost 2 in the morning, fighting off a burgeoning headache, and begrudgingly going back-and-forth with his current client about things that they clearly have no idea about.

“God, I need a vacation.”

And there it is. The same voice that has plagued him for the past six months. The one that had convinced him he wasn’t pushing himself hard enough, causing him to take up editing as a freelance job. The one that’s been calling for him to take a break. The one that’s been persuading him to try and…

“No. No, I just need to focus. I need to get back to my work, go to bed, and prepare myself for tomorrow’s workload. I’ll just get this last little sequence edited, ship the file off back to the client, hope they don't find something else to wrongfully complain about, and then I can-”

DING!

Before Christian can finish that thought, another message from the client comes through, causing him to groan. At least, that’s what he thinks, anyway. As he glances over to the right-most monitor though to find out what was sent, Christian’s eyes widen, before narrowing back down. Instead of another response from the client, some sort of pop-up ad stares back at him, one that’ promises’ (aka, advertises) comfort and luxury far beyond his current pay grade. At least, that’s what it seems like at first, but before he can “X” out of it, the pop-up ad expands.

Two fancy “H”s in swirly letters appear before a rather ornate hotel, the building itself taller than almost any other Christian had ever seen before. His eyes, however, aren’t directed towards the building, or how it tries to call to him like an oasis in the middle of the Sahara. Instead, they flicker lower, reading through the header text that lies underneath. More specifically, he hones in on one particular line of text, one that’s buried underneath the hotel’s numerous features.

“Live Entertainment - Concerts, Pro Wrestling, and other live performances”

Christian’s breathing hitches. For a second, something swells inside him, until it gets shut down.

“It’s just the algorithm, Christian. They’re trying to get you to click on it, trying to make you waste your money. Or maybe, get you to nuke your own computer while they profit from the stolen info.”

Shaking his head, Christian goes to “X” out of the ad… Only to find himself hesitating to do so. He checks back at the monitor with his current editing project, then back to the ad, watching as it calls to him, beckons for him to read more. Editing project. Ad. Editing project. Ad. Back and forth he goes, his eyes lingering more and more on the advertisement with each glance, until finally he’s able to snap himself out of his little trance.

“There’s no time for this, Christian, it’s late enough as is. You have a busy day tomorrow… Just like you always do. So just close out this ad, and get yourself back to work.”

Snapping back to focus, Christian moves the mouse to close things out, but then, Something odd happens. Maybe it was his mouse glitching, causing the cursor to jerk a bit further along the screen than intended. Maybe it was his hand twitching from sheer exhaustion. Or maybe, deep down, there was something that compelled him to go against his own overwhelming schedule. Either way, instead of closing out the ad like he had originally intended, Christian finds himself clicking directly on it. After a few seconds, nothing seems to happen. Christian looks in perplexity, both curious and alarmed by the abrupt movement of his cursor. And then… Brightness.

The monitor flashes to life with a new tab being opened. The sudden influx of light on what is normally a dark mode browser causes Christian to forcibly squeeze his eyes shut. Despite this, the light doesn’t seem to be dying down anytime soon. A wave of nausea hits him as his pounding headache returns, this time with a vengeance.

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no, I can’t be sick. Not now. I… I have to get this done. Have to get to bed.”

Christian tries to stagger to his feet, looking to rush to the bathroom to fight off this nausea, but he never even makes it out of his chair. The light disappears entirely, but Christian doesn’t realize it. The world around him goes completely dark, somehow getting darker than this time of night already allows, and Christian falls backwards into his chair. While his body makes contact, though, his mind continues racing, still feeling like it’s falling, sinking deeper and deeper. He tries reaching out, but gets no response.

As Christian vanishes entirely, the right-most monitor blinks to life. The advertisement has loaded completely, and standing front and center is the original caption that caught Christian’s eye.

“The Palace At H.H, - The Grandest Stage Of Them All.”