funny guy

The hall was stacked to the brim with people.

Some faces I’d crossed before, others I’d only ever seen through a screen, and plenty I couldn’t recognise at all. Phone cameras flashed here and there, waiters threaded through the crowd with silver trays, while enormous LED screens looped highlight reels of impossible giveaways and subscriber milestones.

I picked at the sleeves of my jacket. Seeing so many people dressed like they were attending the premiere of some Oscar-level movie had me feeling a little underdressed. I’d spent two hours convincing myself I looked presentable, only to step into a room where everyone else looked like they had a stylist on payroll.

A cheer erupted from the front. The king of YouTube, MrBeast himself, walked onto the stage to thunderous applause.

He grinned the same way he always did in his thumbnail, a smile that barely reached his eyes, as he let his gaze wander over the sea of faces. It felt almost uncanny. He waited until the cheers died down before clearing his throat.

“First off,” he laughed, “thank you all for coming. Seriously. Some of you have been making videos for years. Some of you literally blew up in the last six months. Doesn’t matter. You’re here because we think you’re the future.”

More applause.

“YouTube Partnership isn’t just … sponsorships or networking. We’re building something bigger. For us, for the world, and most importantly, for you. Because you are the next generation of creators.”

“So tonight…” he spread his arms. “Relax. Meet people. Have fun. By tomorrow morning, you’ll have connections that could change your life, forever.”

And with that, he ended his speech among thunderous applause.

I remained still, only half heartedly clapping my hands, pretending I wasn’t trying to stop sweating.

As everyone slowly drifted into conversations, I caught my reflection in one of the mirrored pillars.

God.

My hair looked like a bird just laid its eggs in it and nested for the winter.

Maybe if I found a bathroom, splashed some water on my face and fixed myself up, I could at least attempt to make a better impression.

I slipped away from the crowd.

The hotel the event was taking place in was huge, far bigger than it looked from outside. Endless hallways branched off from the main hall, each lined with thick carpet that swallowed every footstep.

Eventually I spotted a wooden door and grabbed the handle. To my unfortunate surprise, this was not the bathroom, but rather a separated stairwell that looked far more industrial and cool with its grey colours and lack of windows.

The staircase led both to a lower and upper level as a faint pulse of music drifted up from below. I gave a sigh of relief. There had to be employees downstairs.

If anyone knew where the nearest bathroom was, it’d be them. At least, that was the excuse I gave myself as I started down the steps.

“End up like a dog that’s been beat to much.”

“‘Til you spend half your life just to cover it up now.”

As the music grew clearer and Bruce Springsteen’s Born In The U.S.A. became more recognisable, the staircase emptied into a concrete corridor. Bare pipes snaked across the ceiling as the air around me grew cooler and damper.

I frowned. I hadn’t expected a basement like this in such a prestigious place.

Ahead of me, the corridor split. Then split again, then again. Every passage looked identical. The further I walked, the more uncomfortable I became.

I began to notice the doors, heavy and metallic, each with a narrow reinforced window. Almost like prison cells. A knot tightened in my stomach.

“…Hello?”

But only Bruce Springsteen’s dull patriotic chants and the quiet hum of electricity answered.

I told myself to turn around but, much to my own dismay, I kept walking.

One of the heavy doors ahead had caught my eye. It hadn’t shut properly and now open by barely an inch.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but unfortunately for me, I do appear to have a feline death wish.

So, I edged closer and looked through the gap.

For a second my brain refused to process what I was seeing.

In front of me, right in the middle of the room, someone was strapped to a metal chair.

Their wrists were bound behind them and a gag covered their mouth, muffling their speech effectively. The chair scraped against the floor as they desperately tried to move.

I jerked backwards, stumbling and barely catching myself in the process.

“What the…”

I looked around. This had to be some kind of prank. A skit? Someone had to be filming me, in a couple of seconds some big name creator would jump out behind one of those doors and laugh in my face, right?

But no one did. And as the minutes stretched, something heavy settled in my stomach; realisation.

I turned immediately, forcing myself not to run as to not alarm anyone nearby. I can’t risk-

Voices echoed down the corridor. Several ones, laughing comfortably among each other.

My pulse exploded. I looked around wildly. But there were no exits, no possible way out.

Hiding? Maybe in one of the rooms?

I hesitated for a moment, thinking. It was either that or face whoever may be involved in this fucked up mess.

Hide it is.

I stumbled forward, reaching for the closest door right as it swung open. I yelped, pulling back to avoid being slammed face first into the wall.

Out stepped a man.

He looked familiar, a fellow creator for sure, though I couldn’t quite pinpoint where exactly I’d seen him. Still, it was comforting to find someone like me in this mess.

For a split second I almost smiled… Then I actually looked at him.

Dark red stained the front of his hoodie, his sleeves, even his hands.

His face was flushed, breathing heavy, eyes wide with manic excitement like he’d just finished the world’s biggest adrenaline rush.

He wiped at his forehead, smearing another streak of sticky crimson across his cheek.

“…Woo!” he laughed, almost breathless. “That was insane.”

He finally noticed me.

“Oh.”

His grin widened uncannily.

“You one of the new partners?”

I couldn’t answer. I didn’t even know how to answer.

He looked me up and down before casually hooking a thumb back toward the room he’d just left.

“First time’s always the hardest,” he said. “You wanna try?”