The Next Big Thing
Chapter 173: Match day

Chapter 173: Match day

No, no...Yes, yes!

The rapid-fire shouts echoed through the dimly lit room. Four monitors framed the sleek console, each one casting a flickering glow on Zoey’s focused face. She was seated near the wall, fingers dancing across the controller with practiced precision. The screens all displayed the same intense battle unfolding in real-time — the digital war zone of Fortnite, where every second counted and every decision could mean the difference between glory and defeat.

From her speakers burst the commentator’s energized voice, punctuated by bursts of excitement and tension that matched every twitch of her thumbs.

"Ohhhh! Zoey’s moving in fast! She’s weaving through the rubble — building a ramp here, placing a wall just in time to block incoming fire! The enemy’s closing in, but wait — she’s switched to the pump shotgun... BAM! Right in the chest! That’s damage you can’t come back from!"

Zoey’s lips twitched into a confident grin, her eyes flicking quickly over her digital surroundings as she orchestrated her next move.

"Oooooohhh! And... yes! Zoey has taken out PeterBot! The thirteen-year-old prodigy, the ’Super Rookie’ who’s been storming through this tournament with near-supernatural aim — he’s dead! He’s gone!" The commentator’s voice was almost breathless with excitement. "It was a flawless finish — a perfectly timed sniper shot through a tiny window he barely managed to open. This girl’s precision? Surgical."

Zoey chuckled softly, shaking her head as she leaned back slightly. "Ggs, kid. Ggs." Her voice was low, amused, but there was a spark of competitive fire burning bright in her eyes.

Suddenly, from the speaker came a crackling, defiant voice: "Just wait — I’m gonna catch you. Just wait." The voice was young, brash, and full of the kind of bravado only a true gamer could muster.

Zoey laughed, a clear, wild sound that filled the room. She leaned forward, fingers flying as she prepared for the next challenge, the tension now ratcheted up a notch.

The commentator’s voice cut back in, now almost reverent, the energy climbing higher by the second. "And now, that leaves NotzoeyBlack and the defending champions — the King of Fortnite himself, Kyle ’Bugha’ Giersdorf. The Queen of Mayhem against the reigning monarch. Last year, Notzoey made a bold move — she left her team behind to pursue solo battles. She said her talent was being wasted in a squad. People laughed at her then, but those laughs have turned to gasps of disbelief and respect. In just one year, she’s climbed from promising rookie to serious contender."

The screen split briefly to show highlights — NotzoeyBlack’s journey was not an easy one. She’d placed second in Call of Duty Mobile’s global series, claimed fourth in Apex Legends Solo Showdowns, and dominated multiple regional solo qualifiers across Valorant and PUBG Mobile. Each win adding to her reputation, each tournament a building block in her empire.

"And now? Now she’s here to conquer Fortnite — the pinnacle of the battle royale world."

The commentator’s voice deepened, laced with the grandeur of a sportscaster announcing a championship final. "But this won’t be easy. Because Kyle ’Bugha’ Giersdorf — last year’s World Cup Champion, winner of a staggering three million-dollar payout — the king — isn’t going down without a fight."

The screen zoomed in on Kyle, the young American star’s steely gaze piercing through the broadcast. His every move was precise, calculated, a masterclass in the art of survival and aggression in the Fortnite arena.

The commentator’s voice rose in excitement, riding the tension like a wave crashing on the shore. "And now, ladies and gentlemen... they’ve come in contact. The Queen of Mayhem and the King of the Castle. The question on everyone’s lips — who will prevail? Will the King defend his throne and keep his crown? Or will the Queen shatter records and set a new standard for dominance, standing tall on her new throne?"

The cameras panned back to Zoey, eyes narrowing as she mapped out her strategy. The moment was monumental. Every twitch of her fingers, every heartbeat was amplified in the quiet room. The crowd might be virtual, the cheers digital, but the stakes felt as real as any championship final.

This was 2020 — a year of unprecedented challenges, where competition found new forms and passion burned brighter in the shadows. And here in Zoey’s room, surrounded by the glow of screens and the roar of the commentator, a legend was being born

Chapter 14: The Crownless Queen

"Ohhh it’s getting CRAZY in here, folks! We are down to the FINAL TWO!" The commentator’s voice surged through the feed like lightning crackling through a storm. "It’s a one-on-one. Mano a mano. Queen versus King! NotzoeyBlack versus Bugha. This is it!"

The screen split into dual perspectives: on one side, Zoey, her brows furrowed in fierce concentration, her fingers a blur on the controller; on the other, Kyla "Bugha" Giersdorf, calm and unreadable, the reigning champion. His fingers moved with deadly economy, not wasting a single input.

"We are watching the finals of the 2020 Fortnite International Solo Grand Slam, ladies and gentlemen! Two titans standing amidst the digital ashes of ninety-eight fallen players!"

The in-game storm circle had shrunk to the size of a compact living room. The final battleground: the ruined remains of Craggy Cliffs, now a haphazard maze of metal walls, stairs, and edit traps. Zoey dashed into cover, switching from AR to tactical shotgun with a practiced flick. Her heart was pounding, chest tight.

"NotzoeyBlack has high ground," the commentator breathed, his voice teetering on the edge of hysteria. "She’s holding height! Bugha is building low, conserving mats. She’s pushing now—Oh! Big tag! She’s cracked his shield!"

Zoey’s eyes widened. "YES, YES!" she screamed as her digital self soared through the air with a launch pad, descending like a thunderbolt upon the King.

Crack!

She connected a shotgun blast straight to his build. Kyla tumbled, hit by splash damage.

"She dropped him! She dropped him! He’s scrambling for cover—but he’s out of brick! Zoey’s got the momentum here!"

Her fingers moved faster, editing walls, building a trap box. She tossed a grenade. Switched. Edited. Pumped.

CRACK!

"NO! It missed by a pixel! And wait—wait a second! BUGHA’S COUNTERING!" the commentator screamed.

Kyla had edited up, phased through a ceiling, caught her just as she healed.

Pop!

Zoey gasped. Her in-game health plummeted.

"He got the drop! She’s at 22 HP! One more hit! One more!"

She backed up, hit a wall, flicked to build. But she was out of wood. Out of metal. Out of time.

CRACK!

Her screen went red.

"OH MY GOD!!! HE DID IT! BUGHA HAS DONE IT!"

"FUCK YES!" a male voice howled through Kyla’s stream. It wasn’t Kyla, but one of his teammates in his Discord channel.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Zoey screamed, lurching back in her chair, tossing her headset onto the desk with a loud thud.

"It’s OVER! IT’S OVER! The King has defended his crown! Kyyyyyla ’Bugha’ Giersdorf is STILL the CHAMPION of the Fortnite International Solo Grand Slam 2020! He walks away with the top prize of TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS!"

"NotzoeyBlack, the breakout star, finishes SECOND! What a run! She takes home SIXTY-FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS!"

"And third place goes to PeterBot, the thirteen-year-old wonderboy, walking away with TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS! What. A. Finish."

Zoey sat hunched over her desk, one hand gripping her hair, the other limp on her thigh. "No... how," she whispered to herself. Her eyes were still locked on the death screen, the digital words glowing in mockery: You Placed #2.

Then, her speakers crackled again. Kyla’s voice. Loud. Smug. Laughing.

"What did I tell you, princess? Fortnite ain’t a playground you just stroll into and expect to take over. This isn’t Apex. This isn’t COD. This is the Major League. You walked in thinking you’d run things? Nah. Stay in your lane."

Zoey snapped her head up, eyes blazing. "You think this makes you good? That was pure luck, you stream-humping troll."

Kyla laughed again. "Luck? That’s what people say when they get clapped. You tried to play with the big dogs and got bitten. Simple."

"You’re trash, Kyla. TRASH. I’ll smoke you any time, any place. That win? Hollow as your ego."

"Name it. Solo, duo, creative. Doesn’t matter. I’ll break you like I broke your win streak."

The commentator cut in nervously, clearly trying to mediate but also secretly enjoying the drama. "Whoa, okay okay! Things are getting heated in here! Can we say... rivalry alert? Can we say salty? Can we say PAYBACK incoming?"

Kyla’s voice cut through again. "You wanna run it back? Let’s go duos."

Zoey paused. Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

"Don’t be scared now," Kyla added. "Ohhh, she’s quiet now, huh?"

Other voices in the Discord call started chiming in, mocking her.

"NotzoeyBlack? More like NotReadyBlack."

"Guess she took that L personally."

Zoey gritted her teeth. Then she leaned forward, mouth pressed to her mic.

"Alright, then. Let’s do it. Let’s run it back. DUOS."

The commentator erupted, his voice peaking through the microphone. "AND THERE IT IS! You heard it here FIRST! We’ve got a DUO CHALLENGE on the way! NotzoeyBlack vs Kyla ’Bugha’ Giersdorf. She wants redemption. He wants to bury her. Who will she partner with? WHO WILL RISE?"

As the shouting faded into outro music, Zoey turned slowly toward her second monitor.

Her stream chat was on fire.

@SniperSnacks: she almost had him 😭

@YeetQueen: Who gonna be her teammate tho? doesn’t everyone hate her?

@F0rt4xGod: Kyla gonna cream her in duos lmao

@ZoeNation77: TEAM ZOEY FOREVER. YOU STILL OUR QUEEN!!!

@BughaBot69: Give it up Zoey. You can’t hang.

Her jaw clenched as her eyes darted over the flying comments, a tornado of love and hate, support and salt.

She clicked off the stream. Silence.

She groaned, slumped in her chair.

"Why did you accept, girl?" she muttered, burying her face in her hands. "Ahhh, you idiot. You don’t even have a partner."

She rocked back and forth a little, moping. Her moment, gone in an instant. The match had been hers. Until it wasn’t.

Suddenly, her bedroom door creaked open.

Zoey snapped upright.

"WHO IS THAT?" she barked.

Jason, her twin brother, stepped inside with a bored look, one hand shoved in his hoodie pocket, the other flicking an empty soda can toward her trash bin.

"Relax, psycho," he muttered. "My fault for trying to call on you. Anyway, the match is about to start. You said I should tell you."

Zoey blinked.

’David’.

And just like that, the gears in her mind began to turn.

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