Chloe Knight had just gotten off the call with David Jones, tossing her phone aside as she leaned back on her chair. Her eyes, heavy with exhaustion, lazily road around the room, a satisfied smirk creeping onto her face. If one were to step into this space, they would think they had entered a gar’s dream—because that’s exactly what it was.
The walls were lined with neon LED strips, casting a soft, colorful glow across the room. At the heart of it all sat an expansive triple-monitor setup, each screen boasting the latest high refresh rate technology, ensuring every fra of her gas ran buttery smooth. Below them, a beast of a gaming PC, its transparent side panel revealing a maze of RGB-lit components humming with power.
To the left, a custom-built shelving unit held an impressive collection of gaming consoles—PlayStation, Xbox, Nintendo Switch, and even a few vintage classics for when she felt nostalgic. Each had its own designated spot, complete with charging docks and a tangled ss of controllers sprawled over the surface like battle-hardened warriors resting after a long campaign.
On the right, an ergonomic gaming chair—one of those ridiculously expensive ones that looked more like a luxury car seat than a piece of furniture—stood as her throne. She had spent countless hours glued to it, perfecting her skills, and if chairs had mories, this one would carry tales of glorious victories and soul-crushing defeats.
Even with all this, Chloe still didn’t consider this her real room. No, this was just a temporary setup at her brother’s place. Her actual room in London was ten tis bigger, a true palace of gaming decadence. But thanks to the pandemic, she had been stuck here longer than expected, forcing her to order all of this equipnt to survive.
Jason Knight, her twin brother and a young footballer, had been kind enough to let her stay. Well, kind was a stretch—he had no choice. And truthfully, she was pretty sure he regretted it every single day.
Chloe rubbed her eyes, her fingers tangling in her already ssy hair. She had pulled an all-nighter, practicing for an upcoming tournant, and now she was paying the price. Every limb felt like lead, her thoughts moved sluggishly, and if exhaustion had a face, she was wearing it.
Dragging herself out of bed in her oversized pajama shirt and fluffy socks, she shuffled toward the kitchen. A cup of warm milk before crashing into bed sounded heavenly.
As she reached the kitchen and began pouring herself a drink, she heard frantic footsteps thudding against the floor. Then, a loud thud followed by a groan.
Chloe, unfazed, turned her head just in ti to see Jason sprawled out on the floor, one shoe half-on, the other still untied. He was scrambling like a man possessed, moving with the speed of soone trying to outrun a life-altering mistake.
She raised a tired eyebrow. "What exactly are you doing?" she asked, her voice thick with exhaustion, the dark circles under her eyes making her look half-dead.
Jason, still lying on the floor like a tragic figure in a sports drama, didn’t even spare her a glance. Instead, he launched into a frantic explanation. "Coach said we have training at nine today, and I’m late! I swear I set my alarm for six so I could get ready, but when I woke up, I was still tired, so I thought, ’hey, lem just close my eyes for a few more minutes,’ and boom—next thing I know, it’s 8:30! I still don’t know how the hell that happened."
He finally got up, quickly tying his second shoe, panic written all over his face.
Chloe, anwhile, took a slow sip of her milk, savoring it like she had all the ti in the world. Then, she casually asked, "Wait. Which clock did you check?"
Jason, still fumbling with his gear, answered, "The one in the living room. Why?"
Chloe’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. "Ohhh. Yeah, about that..." She took another sip before delivering the bombshell. "I changed that clock to be two hours ahead of real ti. So if it says 8:30, it’s actually 6:30."
Jason’s hands froze mid-motion. His brain short-circuited. His eyes darted toward her, slowly processing what she had just said.
"...What?"
"Yeah, I told you yesterday I was setting it to Saudi ti so I could keep track of my tournant properly," she said nonchalantly, as if she hadn’t just sent him into a morning panic for absolutely no reason.
Jason yanked his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it with trembling fingers. His jaw clenched as he read the screen.
6:41 AM.
For a mont, there was nothing but silence. Then—
"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" he roared, his frustration bursting out in full force.
Chloe, entirely unbothered, calmly wiped her mouth and placed the empty cup in the sink. "Why are you yelling? I told you I was going to change it."
Jason’s glare could have set fire to the entire room. "YOU COULD HAVE JUST CHANGED YOUR PHONE’S TI!"
"That sounds like effort," she replied, already turning back toward her room. "Anyway, I’m too tired for this. I’m going to sleep."
Jason let out a loud groan, running his hands through his hair. "Unbelievable..." He took a deep breath, then said, "What ti is your tournant?"
"3 PM, our ti. 5 PM, theirs," she answered with a massive yawn.
Jason sighed. "I should be back by then."
"Lucky you," Chloe muttered as she stretched, already halfway to her door. Then, as if rembering sothing, she turned back. "Oh, that’s right! I have a console being delivered today, a gift from a friend. It should arrive around that ti, but I’ll be busy, so do a favor and collect it for . Thanks!"
Jason blinked. "Since when do you have friends?" he asked, genuinely baffled.
Chloe rolled her eyes. "That’s none of your business. Now go call your London girlfriend or sothing."
"Hah, hilarious," Jason deadpanned. Then, glancing down at his fully dressed self, he frowned. "Now that I’m ready and it’s actually early... what am I supposed to do?"
Chloe, already at her bedroom door, gave him a sleepy smirk. "Dude, kids younger than you are already at training. Maybe you should, I dunno, go early for once? Might actually help you." And with that, she disappeared into her room, locking the door behind her.
Jason stood there, hands on his hips, muttering, "This girl..." He wanted to strangle her, just a little bit. But, annoyingly enough, she had a point.
Training had been rough lately. The team still hadn’t found a proper replacent for their forr player—his forr friend, David Jones—and the lack of attacking power was painfully obvious. And now, with their coach shifting from a player-coach role to a full-ti managerial one, things were even more uncertain.
Jason sighed, grabbing his bag as he stepped outside.
anwhile, inside her room, Chloe—or Zoey to her online gaming friends—had already collapsed onto her bed, out cold.
"AKMAN HAS DONE IT! HE JUST KILLED FREG! NOW WE’RE DOWN TO OUR FINAL FIVE!"
The comntator’s voice, thick with a Saudi Arabian-English accent, bood over the stream, electric with excitent. "But wait—Broken and Tectonic are closing in! They’re not far! Hold on—WAIT, WAIT—Zoey Black has just touched down! And she’s locked onto HolyFather! LET’S GO THERE!"
Inside her dimly lit room, Zoey sat on the edge of her gaming chair, her entire focus locked on the iPad in her hands. Her thumbs danced across the screen, her custom claw-grip technique swift and precise. She wore a high-end gaming headset, the kind that canceled out everything but the ga’s audio, and a pair of sleek compression gaming sleeves covered her forearms, preventing sweat from interfering with her movents.
Her room, freezing cold thanks to the AC blasting at full power, was the perfect contrast to her burning intensity. Despite the chill, a small bead of sweat trickled down her temple. She didn’t notice. All she saw was the battlefield in front of her.
"YES, YES, YES," she muttered under her breath, her heartbeat syncing with the rapid gunfire in the ga.
Her stream chat was on fire:
NovaHorizon: Zoey is INSANE! She’s already at 7 kills in this lobby! 🔥🔥🔥MistyWhisper: Nah, she’s taking this. Mark my words.SerenePulse: Don’t be so sure—Akman is on FIRE right now!OopsIDidItAgain: Lol y’all acting like she ain’t about to face HolyFather.NachoAverageJoe: HolyFather has a purifier! It’s over for her lmao.NotYourAva: She better run or she’s gonna be BBQ. 😭
Zoey’s thumbs moved faster. Her eyes flicked across the map.
"Shit, shit, shit," she hissed.
"HOLYFATHER HAS A PURIFIER!" the comntator roared. "HE’S ABOUT TO BURN ZOEY ALIVE! SHE’S ON THE RUN!"
Flas burst to life behind her in-ga character as HolyFather let loose the fire-spewing weapon. Zoey reacted instantly. She slid into cover behind a stack of crates, tossed a smoke grenade, and darted left while everyone expected her to go right. HolyFather charged forward, purifier ready, thinking he had her trapped.
That was his mistake.
Zoey leaped from her hiding spot, tossed a flashbang at his feet, and vaulted over him as it exploded.
"You think you’re Superman, ehn?!" she shouted, her voice echoing in her room.
A burst of precise hip-fire shots cut through the smoke—her bullets hitting their mark. HolyFather collapsed.
The chat exploded.
SerenePulse: SHE DID IT! SHE FRICKIN’ DID IT!!!NovaHorizon: GOD-TIER MOVE WTF 🤯🤯🤯OopsIDidItAgain: HolyFather just got EXORCISED LMAOOOONotYourAva: Nah, I refuse to believe she planned that. That was WITCHCRAFT. 😵
Zoey exhaled, shaking off the adrenaline. No ti to celebrate.
"Wait, wait, wait—THE REMAINING THREE HAVE T!" The comntator’s voice cut through the chaos. "THEY’RE ENGAGING EACH OTHER RIGHT NOW!"
She whipped her cara to the fight. Akman, Broken, and Tectonic were in a fierce gunfight, bullets flying, grenades exploding.
"AKMAN IS DOWN! HE’S DOWN!"
Cindingo: TOLD Y’ALL BROKEN WAS THE BEST!MistyWhisper: No way. It’s Tectonic’s ga to lose now.
Zoey narrowed her eyes. This was her chance.
"BROKEN JUST USED HIS CLASS FOR THE FIRST TI—DEFENDER CLASS! HE’S BLINDED TECTONIC! HE’S ABOUT TO FINISH HIM—"
The mont Broken activated his shield, Zoey struck.
Silent. Deadly.
A flash of movent behind them.
"GOD! GOD! GOD! NOTZOEYBLACK JUST CA FROM BEHIND USING HER GRIM ENDING NO SHE HAS CHANGED TO HER LLE WEAPON!"
Her knife flashed. One down.
Tectonic, still recovering from the blinding effect, had no chance. Two down.
The screen froze.
VICTORY.
The comntator lost it. "SHE HAS WON! SHE HAS WON! NOTZOEYBLACK IS THE 2020 SAUDI BR CHAMPION, WALKING AWAY WITH 250,000 DOLLARS!"
The chat erupted.
NovaHorizon: SHE’S NOT HUMAN WTF 🤯OopsIDidItAgain: A LEGEND WAS BORN TODAYNachoAverageJoe: TAKE MY MONEY, QUEEN. 👑💰NotYourAva: Sobody CHECK ON BROKEN, I know he’s CRYING.
The comntator, still hyped, added: "AND REMBER, NEXT MONTH WE HAVE OUR MP TOURNANT WITH A 500,000 DOLLAR CASH PRIZE, COURTESY OF PRINCE FAHAD AL-MUKHTAR! BUT TONIGHT, LET’S GIVE IT UP FOR NOTZOEYBLACK!"
Zoey ripped off her headset, jumped up, and scread.
"YES! YES! TAKE THAT!"
She flopped onto her bed, laughing, adrenaline still pumping through her veins.
Reaching for her phone, she checked the ti. David should be done with his training. He was her only real friend, and she had to tell soone.
She hit call.
He picked up instantly.
Both their voices ca at the sa ti—
"GUESS WHAT?!"
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