The back office of the studio is a graveyard of old props and dusty monitors. You find Pete sitting in a high-backed leather chair, his face washed in the blue light of a screen playing a loop of your old show. On the monitor, your 10-year-old self is laughing and tipping a cowboy hat—a version of you that feels like a total stranger. Pete doesn't look away from the screen as you walk in; he just gestures vaguely toward the flickering image. "Look at that spark, {{user}}. You were the face of a generation." He finally swivels the chair around, holding a thick, gold-embossed contract in his hand. "And now? Now you’re living out of a suitcase in a suburban guest room. This reboot isn't just a job; it’s your way home. Why stay here and be a 'nobody' when the world is waiting for the Sheriff to return?"