Tanner Quest in: Kill the Messenger

3:27 am.

The only time of day that Los Angeles was bearable, in Tanner Quest’s opinion. No matter the time of year, they found the heat unbearable (though that might be their insistence on wearing three-piece suits.) But when the sun went down and the dream factory closed for the day…that’s when Tanner finally felt comfortable. In the climate, if not in their own skin.

They typed away at their latest project. The harsh glow of their laptop screen filled the studio apartment; and the clickety-clack of the keys under Tanner’s fingers cut through the secret stillness.

They rubbed their hand against their right shoulder, shifting the fabric of their shirt sleeve and pulling it up past their wrist. They quickly pulled it back down; even all alone in the middle of the night, they preferred to show as little of their body as possible.

If life had taught Tanner anything, it’s that they did not wish to be seen.

Sadly, that had ceased to be an option.

Blorp, said their computer–the sound of a new e-mail. Tanner didn’t bother looking; they knew what it was. Not specifically, but after almost three months they’d worked out a few greatest hits.

RINGDISPATCH YOUR DISCRIMINATION MUST BE RESTITUTED

TANNER QUEST YOU ARE GUILTY OF CRIMES AGAINST MONSTERDOM AND YOU WILL PAY MONEY

THANK YOU FOR HELPING RESTORE THE LIBERTY OF [REDACTED]LAND WITH YOUR FINANCIAL CONTRIBUTION SHARK

ONE MILLION DOLLARS AND ONE THOUSAND YEARS IN JAIL LEAVE ME ALONE RORY I’M TRYING TO TYPE

Or, the worst of the lot…

🚲

Sent at exactly 28 minutes past the hour. Every hour. Every day.

Tanner had long since given up on blocking the accounts, which changed regularly. That gave them more time to fight the constant flood of charges to their account from [REDACTED]land, which proved just as futile. It felt like they spent more time, money, and effort fighting the Generalissimo’s harassment campaign, and all three of those resources were nearly depleted.

It threatened to shutter the news outlet for good, all over a legitimate question and casual observation.

The cruelest part was how unnecessary it was.

The site had been losing money and viewers in droves since their split with Savannah Scandal in 2023. Their articles drew little interest, and while millions watched the Belmont Classic last year, almost none had done so through RingDispatch.

The people had spoken. They wanted PRIME. DEFIANCE. Bang! Pro Wrestling. The Milo Flynn Cup and Belmont Classic, now that they were big enough.

They didn’t want BRUTAL, or MWK, or Rust Belt Wrestling. They didn’t want RingDispatch or the collection of misfits that comprised the staff.

In a way, the Generalissimo did them a kindness. Better a quick death than a slow, drawn-out one.

Their supplemental staff would be fine; Karen Nakano would simply find another outlet for her Bang! reports, and Dustin Callais would have plenty of options once he finished college. For the core group, the outlook was much bleaker.

Karelma Gutierrez, whose mission was to spark interest in the various Latin American scenes while also raising enough money to help her family emigrate from Nicaragua. Passionate about the sport, meticulous in her research, and always the first to stand up for Tanner when they got overwhelmed.

How do you tell someone that their efforts were for nothing?

Maeva Chastain, a fellow transplant to Los Angeles and the only real friend Tanner made in the city. An aspiring actress constantly rejected for her size; Maeva had been a wealth of great advice for the website’s design as well as Tanner's personal life, once the reporter realized their repeated “interviews” with a certain commentator were actually dates.

How do you apologize to someone for wasting their time and energy?

Peter Rahal, the site statistician–always ready with facts, whether you wanted them or not. Always available because he hadn’t left his apartment in four years, and was unemployable by normal society standards. His work for RingDispatch was the only way to turn his hyperfixation into a living; what would he do without it?

How do you force someone back into a world that rejected him once already?

And what about me?

I can’t go back to North Platte, they thought. Those people won’t let me be a journalist. They wouldn’t even let me be myself.

But what else can I do?

That plan would have to wait. Right now, they had to break the news.

They pressed the “Enter” key, sending the post they’d typed an hour earlier.

@RingDispatchTQ: I have something important to tell you all.

Slowly, deliberately, they typed out the announcement, each keystroke landing heavily like a tolling church bell. As they did, the others came to attention.

@RingDispatchKG: ¿Qué pasa?

@RingDispatchPR: Is it about the ALL article? I’ve nearly finished compiling the career stats of all four Justicios.

@RingDispatchMC: OMG are you and Chloe finally official?! ❣️❣️❣️

“I’ll miss you all,” they whispered as they finished the message. No more delays.

It was time.

It was over.

SUDDENLY!

(A video pops up, taking up the whole computer screen. It features two men in masks, standing way too close and talking way too loud. Tanner pushes themself away from the desk with force, the sudden intrusion sending a spike of panic through their body.)

Intruder #1: WE ARE IN COMPETITION, AND THE COMPETITION IS NO COMPETITION!

Intruder #2: WE WILL COM-PETE, THEN RE-PETE! WE WILL PETE OUR WAY THROUGH PIRME, AND ALL WILL TREMBLE IN THE FACE OF OUR PETERY!

Intruder #1: THE FIRST VICTIMS IN OUR REIGN OF TERROR ARE THE POP CULTURE PHENOMS!

Intruder #2: MORE LIKE POOP CULTURE!

(Got ‘em.)

Intruder #1: GOT ‘EM!

(I just said that.)

Intruder #1: SORRY!

(What did I tell you about this?! I only just got back in the Narrator’s Guild’s good graces; don’t screw it up for me now!)

Intruder #1: ELISEARES, YOU ARE NO CHALLENGE! WE WILL DESTROY ANY ELISEARE WE FIND!

Intruder #2: DEREK EDWARDS! AFTER THIS YOU WILL BE EREK EDWARDS, BECAUSE THE D IS SILENT!

Intruder #1: JUST LIKE IN DJANGO UNCHAINED! I LOVE THAT MOVIE!

Intruder #2: ME TOO!

Intruder #1: WE WILL BURN THEM DOWN LIKE LEONARDO DICAPRIO’S MANSION!

Intruder #2: THE BLAZE WILL CONSUME NOT JUST PHOENIX, BUT ALL OF ARIZONA!

Intruder #1: RAZING ARIZONA!

Intruder #2: I LOVE THAT MOVIE TOO!

Intruder #1: AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!

Intruder #2: AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!

(The video ends, removing these huge and shouty men from Tanner’s computer and leaving the journalist all alone, wide-eyed and astonished.)

[Cut.]

They didn’t move. They didn’t dare. Tanner Quest could only catch their ragged breathing and calm their frayed nerves. From the lack of activity in the staff chat, they weren’t the only one.

Karelma, always the fearless one, was the first to snap out of it.

@RingDispatchKG: ¿Qué carajo acaba de pasar?

Yet another question for which Tanner had no answer. At least it was a brief reprieve from the inevitable.

When Tanner finally came back to themself, they tried to send the message again..but paused just before pressing the key, as if some miracle would present itself. But Tanner was far too logical, far too realistic to think that such a thing could ever–

Blorp

Shocked, Tanner pulled their hand back. This couldn’t be more of [REDACTED]’s harassment, but who else would send a message at this time of night?

New Donation! Anonymous User has donated…

Anonymous? That’s new. I wonder how much–

A simple click gave them the answer…and a lot more questions.

What?

Why?

WHO?!

But those answers weren’t forthcoming. Just a simple message from the mystery donor:

“Some of us believe in the work you’re doing. Keep it up.”

And a truly stupid amount of money.

Enough to keep RingDispatch.com running for years.

Enough to elevate their heartbeat, and make their fingers shake. They feverishly deleted the site’s death certificate, then stared at the flashing cursor as a whirlwind of ideas tore through their mind.

The upgrades. The investments. The content. All the pie-in-the-sky ideas they’d batted around for years.

They could do it all now.

@RingDispatchMC: Tanner? You had something to tell us?

But for all the activity in their mind, the prolific writer found themself at a loss for words.

How do you let people know that their dreams have come true?